


Beyond My Wings

by NekoTora243



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Basically me rewriting Dr STONE with lots of differences, Blood and Injury, Chrome is Senkuu's child at this point, Do not repost on another site, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt Ishigami Senkuu, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I believe in characters having scars, I'm so mean to Senkuu, I'm trying my best to make it sound much more dangerous than it is, Injury, Ishigami Senkuu Adopts Everybody, Ishigami Senkuu Needs a Hug, Kinda, Lichtenberg Scars, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Senkuu Protection Squad, Senkuu and Gen up to no good, Slight OOC Ishigami Senkuu, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, Whump, Wingfic, Wings, and everyone joins, attempt at making sense of science, because Kohaku made it, crossposted to ff.net, no beta we die like men, petrification, same with Suika
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoTora243/pseuds/NekoTora243
Summary: Humans have evolved over two million years, and in the span of such long history they adapted to being in the air after an unknown phenomenon changed their biological makeup, a side effect of such prompting the evolutionary chain to develop wings, a defense mechanism to avoid land predators when their numbers threatened to dive, and by the late sixteenth century humans were born with fully developed wings that belonged more on birds than on people.In modern science, Senkū feels that it’s more fantasy than fact, a very unscientific thing to believe humans originally evolved from apes and then suddenly grew parts only an avian would possess? Simply illogical. Unfortunately, waking in the Stone World finds himself helpless when he can’t fly.
Relationships: Chrome/Ruri (Dr. STONE), Hyouga/Momiji Homura, Ishigami Senkuu/Nanami Ryuusui, Ogawa Yuzuriha/Ooki Taiju
Comments: 42
Kudos: 105





	1. We're All Sparrows Swallowed in Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first Chapter of Beyond My Wings! Now, I'm no math wiz or scientific philosopher but I have been doing a bit of research here and there to make some sense of the science in the story. If there are any irregularities please let me know. I rather appreciate the help. :)
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans have evolved over two million years, and in the span of such long history they adapted to being in the air after an unknown phenomenon changed their biological makeup, a side effect of such prompting the evolutionary chain to develop wings, a defense mechanism to avoid land predators when their numbers threatened to dive, and by the late sixteenth century humans were born with fully developed wings that belonged more on birds than on people.
> 
> In modern science, Senkū feels that it’s more fantasy than fact, a very unscientific thing to believe humans originally evolved from apes and then suddenly grew parts only an avian would possess? Simply illogical. Unfortunately, waking in the Stone World finds himself helpless when he can’t fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first Chapter of Beyond My Wings! Now, I'm no math wiz or scientific philosopher but I have been doing a bit of research here and there to make some sense of the science in the story. If there are any irregularities please let me know. I rather appreciate the help. :)
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> A/N: 11/09/20 - Added page break lines to text.

# Beyond My Wings

Ishigami Senkū—a child of seven winters with a stubborn streak as wide as the galaxy—rolls up the window, eyeing the darkening skies and the beginnings of a drizzle settling over the city. His wings fluff up and flutter with excitement at the thought of what he's about to do.

He looks down at his watch and grins. The weather is on time, just as he calculated.

It won’t take long for the winds to pick up speed, for the dark masses above to color charcoal black, and the faint traces of lightning coming from the east. He grins wider as buckets of water cascade and blur the clarity from the glass, but he doesn’t care for that.

He puts on a water resistant coat and a hat for his hair. It would be pointless in a few minutes but it’ll be easier to stave off hypothermia and even a cold. Byakuya told him he easily gets sick and a cold would keep him down for a week or more. The idea is ludicrous to him; he’d have very little time studying and furthering his research, but with a few early preventative measures he’ll be back without getting sick. All it’ll take is fifteen minutes—a hypothetical five minutes of dryness, and ten minutes of flying into the storm. He'll be back right after like nothing happened.

He can see the torrent falling onto some unlucky people who were unable to find shelter quickly enough. Birds scatter with the coming of thunder and the skies light up with roiling lightning, frightening all to its mighty roar.

All except him. Senkū tenses his wings and bursts forth, the window panel shutting closed to prevent rain from drenching his telescope. Soon he's soaring through the skies regardless if he's drenched or dry with a cry of exhilaration. His long white wings speckled in green take him higher into the sky, breaching through the black mass obscuring the bright blue from view. He hovers for a moment, taking in the gentle cradle within the barrier of clouds. None are more brave to enter the storm than him.

It feels much more exhilarating than the chase taking place after classes let out. His usual tormentors were much too slow to keep up with his speed, which clocks at 82 km/h. A new record for someone his size and age.

“Heh, idiots couldn’t outspeed a squirrel,” he scoffs, feeling smug. It's only natural. His wings are twice larger than any other at his age, and he is thrilled to know that they'll keep growing that way, larger and stronger than even most athletes without a sweat. He isn't expected home for another while but Byakuya is sure to hunt him down if he stays out too long.

 _“Kid, you're gonna make my hair grow even whiter than they should be if you keep recklessly flying in the rain!”_ Is what he'd told him months before, when another storm covered the sky completely.

 _"Oh, stop it Pops. At least I'm not graying!"_

Senku scoffs. He can take care of himself. He's way smarter than most people in school; there's no need to confine him indoors when he really just wants to fly in peace. With the storm coming in it's more an opportunity to train his wings against heavy air currents and rainwater weighing him down. Already his flying is up with the best, the larger wingspan granting him additional speed with how small he is compared to his classmates. Less weight and smaller body equal less drag. With double the average wingspan his speed doubles over any child he knows. It's why he's becoming the winner of junior sky races taking place in Hakone, paying tribute to their bronze Buddha statue when they reach the halfway point.

But he can't pass this up. It's perfect to condition his wings for the advanced endurance sky races that universities all over the country host for the best of the best. Those ones are far more difficult when they take place in the snowy mountains on dangerous air currents and plummeting temperatures, or the stone stacks jutting from the sea for competitive stunt flying, or even the Great Troposphere Race where the competitors fly as high as they can flap until there's only one left flying. The last one may sound easy but the competitors have to combat thin oxygen levels, colder temperatures, air pressure, and gravity. Articles that focus on such races are astoundingly intriguing, enough that one day, when he's older, he'll partake in every Sky Race he can join and show the world that even smaller fliers can beat the best of them.

So, against Byakuya’s wishes he sneaked out and now soars along quickly-changing winds, his feathers tugging every direction as the storm threatens to push him around. His wings strain as he eyes a particular patch of sky bare of clouds and grins.

He'll turn it into a sky race. His goal is to combat the wind and avoid potential lighting strikes to get to clear air. Once he's conquered that challenge he can happily return home and rest. Well, if the old man doesn't discover he's missing by the time he can make the “I was in the shower” excuse by using the fact he's soaking wet to his advantage.

Grinning, he flaps his wings and flutters closer to the storm, the rain bearing down heavier in the time he's been mapping out his path to the open patch. He gets into position, wings spread open, arms tucking in his sides, legs halfway curled, and his body positioning itself forward. Standard sky race form, but Senkū will change his to suit his speed. That's another test he'll have to conduct at a later date.

He counts down from three, waiting for a signal to start his race. He counts down to zero just as a bolt of lightning hits a nearby mountain and he springs to flight, snapping his wings down harshly and rocketing forward. The houses barely blur around him as he maneuvers the clouds, twirling around taller buildings with a manic grin and joy in his eyes.

No one occupies the roads. He's the only one flying now, when on a normal sunny day the sky would have hundreds of flying humans getting to where they need to go, he's the only soul brave enough to fly. It's so freeing to fly when no one else occupies the skies, the scene all his to conquer as the winds increase, and Senkū has it all to himself.

He dodges large gusts of wind and smiles when he sees the open patch just a few meters away. He's almost there when an ominous feeling bursts in his chest, and he instinctively barrel-rolls away from a lightning bolt streaming past him and striking the tree he was flying over, watching the bark explode and burst into flames while electricity scatters in the ground. In horror, he quickens his pace, straining his wings to go faster while taking account of his steady breathing to keep it up. If he panics now there's no telling what'll happen with his poor stamina if he gulps air like Byakuya eats ramen.

Senkū feels the air stiffen, goose bumps running up his limbs. He dodges to the right, narrowly missing another bolt of lightning. He scrambles to form a plan. Flying under this storm he’s a likely target for lightning to hit, seeing as the bolt will search for the nearest thing to travel to and he’s not keen on being the designated target. It’s a one billion percent certainty he’ll get hit if he doesn’t get out of the storm.

His house isn’t too far. If he can put on a burst of speed he can slide through his window and close the pane. He’s wired it to open if he isn’t inside. As soon as he’s within ten meters of the building. His house is currently 132 meters away. With his current speed of 82 km/h, he’ll get there within—

The air gets thicker and the smell of ozone is the only warning he gets before blinding pain burns through his body, causing him to scream as his vision turns white-hot. He whimpers as the sensation of liquid fire bursts through his sensitive nerves, carving through the flesh of his neck and rooting downward on his left side. The sound is deafening and for a moment, in a far corner of his mind, he wonders if he’s gone deaf. He’s just shy of five meters from the open spot of sky, 130 meters from his home, yet suspended by a bolt of plasma at least 20 meters in the air. If he were faster he would have made it.

The faint, numb sensation spreads across his body, limbs not responding to his commands as his wings freeze, feathers smoking and catching the slightest embers as gravity pulls him back.

_It feels like dying…_

His body careens towards the earth, the faintest whistle of wind wailing around his ears. He can’t feel the wind rushing through his clothing or the way his wings whip around without a twitch..

Is this how he'll die? Falling to his death by the whims of Earth’s gravitational pull after being struck by lightning? Before he can make his goals come true?

“Hang in there!” A loud yell sweeps through the sky, almost drowned out by thunder and rain. Something impacts from behind and he would've flinched if he could feel it. He looks up with blurry eyes to see shining brown ones looking at him in concern and fear, brown wings speckled in black at the middle of his secondary feathers flap frantically away from the clouds.

“W-What?” is all he manages, eyes blurring the longer he tries to see the stranger.

“It's okay! I know a safe place we can hide from the storm! Please don't close your eyes,” the stranger yells with a choking whimper.

But Senkū can't promise him that. He knows his body is shutting down, shaking as his breathing turns erratic as his lungs fight for air. The world shifts and warps into strange, abstract images and Senkū doesn't realize he's already slipped into unconsciousness long before they touch down to earth.

“H-Hey! Please, hold on! I can help you get better. Just p-please don’t go to sleep!”

A part of him wants to apologize to him. Byakuya, too, if he gets wind of his foolish stunt once he realizes Senkū's gone missing on the off chance he gets admitted to a hospital.

But for now, he feels strangely lightheaded and floaty, the pain banishing and leaving pleasant numbness calling out to him like a siren’s song.

He forgets he has to stay awake and drifts off, oblivious to the stranger’s sobbing pleas.

* * *

When he comes to, it looks as if the storm rolled away, now far in the distance where the thunderous roars are mere whispers.

“Hey,” a loud voice breaks the darkness around him. The sound startles him into releasing a tiny screech. “Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? You're hurt pretty bad!”

_Oh, to all that is power in science, could this stranger please quiet themselves?_

Senkū grits his teeth as consciousness pulls itself together, his hands shaking like he's grasping at the air. His wings hurt in a way that feels like someone used a branding spit on the delicate flesh beneath his plumage. It burns intensely, more than they ever have in his short lifespan and just moving them brings a burning wave of pain eating through him like acid.

It burns, it's painful, and even the slightest movements are almost too much for his body to handle. He feels like passing out and throwing up all at once but he forces his eyelids to cooperate, hoping to see the person who saved him from becoming human roadkill with bits of plumage on the road.

The boy hovering over him is completely drenched, his short hair plastering to his face and stained white shirt clinging like tree sap. Those brown eyes he saw before he passed out shine with unshed tears as a large smile splits his face.

“Who are you,” Senkū asks. “What time is it?”

The boy looks familiar. Possibly from his class if he thinks about it, but his head pounds something fierce and he has to lie his head down to make it go away. The boy almost reaches out to help but he hisses at him, startling him into retracting his hands.

“I don't like being touched,” Senkū explains. The boy’s face falls at the rejection for aid. “But otherwise I ache a lot right now.”

Senkū frowns at him as he put a bit of distance between them, looking like he desperately wants to help yet refuses to upset the smaller boy. Guilt rises in Senkū’s chest. He didn't mean to snap at the boy but several kids his age always tricked him into lowering his guard so they could tear him apart just for entertainment. His trust in kids is comparable to winning a plush from the claw machines, where you plow through eagerly but meet low expectations and increasing disappointment. In the few years he’s attended school, that analogy perfectly sums up each human interaction that comes his way. He considered a private school once, where discipline is the foundation to decent, normal human beings than the neanderthals that walk school halls but Byakuya talked him out of it stating that it would be hell and no one would want to be friends in such an environment.

The brown-haired boy grins in relief. “Thank goodness! I saw you get struck by lightning in the storm and flew up to catch you! You could have died if I hadn't!”

The reminder makes him flinch and the boy looks ready to bow for forgiveness at the reaction.

“Please, let me take you to the hospital! Those wounds aren’t good!”

There's a lot of fear in his voice, shaking and cracking as it is. Senkū can’t help the tiny spark of warm gratitude that seeds itself in his chest.

It’s very strange for someone his age. Senkū doesn't know him very well, but he’s in the same class now that he concentrates on his face. He's very loud and energetic and he's avoided the boy on every occasion during recess, but now they're face to face, after he got _struck by lightning_ trying to train his wings for an experiment that's totally blown in his face and is now paying the consequences for it. If Byakuya notices then he is going to get his butt roasted on the spot.

Heh. Sounds like something the old man would do in these situations. Mother-hen him to death while screeching like some smoked chicken pipe being shoved down someone’s throat.

He takes a minute to breathe, blinking the white spots out of his eyes to see where they are. There's something soft beneath him, his wings spread out on either side soaking in the spots of sunlight filtering through what looks like old floorboards and a set of wooden stairs attached to what he assumes is the deck. He turns his head to see the loud kid staring at him in concern, his white shirt and brown shorts dirty and sticking to him in all places. His feet are bare of footwear and his wings fidget behind him, fluffing up occasionally as Senkū’s silent scrutiny lingers longer than is comfortable.

There’s one thing Senkū questions: why is this strange kid still here when he could've left him alone after rescuing him.

“My name is Ōki Taiju—it's nice to make your acquaintance!” He bows at him and Senkū flinches in surprise when Taiju bends in half at the waist in his formalities. That freaks him out more than the large, hopeful smile shining back at him like a megawatt lightbulb.

He hesitates in returning the favor. How can he not? They barely know each other outside or even inside of class. At most they only passed each other in the playground rather than talk regularly. Everyone knows him at school, but Senkū never even bothered even a millimeter to do the same, preferring to linger on his own and focus on space and technology in a vacant room with little traffic. But here and now, Taiju, the ever-smiling loud kid in class is giving him a hopeful smile as he waits for Senkū to return formalities.

It’s weird. 10 Billion Percent weird, but he might just be the first person to ever look at him like that outside of Byakuya.

He grins. What an interesting thought.

“Name’s Ishigami Senkū. Just call me Senkū—sounds like my old man if you address me by family name.”

There. He takes the plunge, places his bets, and hopes he's made the right choice in extending an olive branch to Taiju. Experience-wise, making friends pales considerably to the science he's soaking in like a sponge. He has no idea how it works, how he should act, and is fully prepared to receive backlash for the upcoming failure that no doubt comes. It's happened enough that he's gotten used to getting turned down by potential friends but he never lets that bother him much. Not when science and flying are the only passions he nurtures in the world.

“Nice to meet you, Senkū!” The large smile the boy gives him is radiating with genuine happiness and his arms twitch as if resisting the urge to hug him.

Somehow, Senkū realizes he's just made a friend. How… exhilarating.

Sometime after introducing themselves, Taiju does his best to help Senkū get back to his feet, finding it somewhat difficult due to the smaller boy’s wings dragging over the ground. When he offers to carry him on his back, Senkū immediately refuses, his face turning a bright shade of red as he looks away.

“I can walk! I won’t piggyback on you, not one millimeter!”

Taiju doubts the boy can do anything but shake. He says nothing out of respect for his new friend. Pride and dignity are what drive Senkū to get up and he finds that admirable, if concerning.

It’s only after the exhausting struggle to escape harsh winds, the cold rain, and the near-death experience with that bolt of lightning that Senkū’s body gives up, sending him sprawling on the ground with a whimper of painful frustration.

Taiju winces. He doesn’t want to make Senkū uncomfortable anymore than he is, taking in the shaking limbs and his wings plastering themselves to his back. Senkū makes another attempt to stand and falls, gasping as he tries again. It goes on for a while until Taiju can’t sit back and let this go on anymore so he props the smaller boy against a crate and stops his feeble attempts to resist.

“Senkū, you can’t get up! Let me help! If you keep doing this you’ll make it worse!”

Senkū grits his teeth as he curses the uselessness of his limbs. Small hands dig in the dirt as tears prick in his eyes.

Taiju gently crouches and picks him up. Senkū flinches and Taiju apologizes for agitating his wounds. Senkū grumbles at the boy for carrying him like a teddy bear but he has no choice.

“Where do you live, Senkū?”

“I live a few streets down, just follow the park and turn right at the exit. It’s the white apartment building with a black gate.”

“Okay, please hold tight. I don’t want to drop you!”

“Then don’t fly too quickly, you big oaf!”

“That’s not nice.”

“I didn’t mean it as a way to intellectually degrade you.”

“I seriously do not understand!”

Senkū rubs his temples wondering how he’s getting out of this.

“Just follow the road.”

Carefully, Taiju lifts flaps his wings and glides through the vibrant gardens of the park staying a few meters higher than the trees in case he somehow collides with anything. Senkū sighs as he watches the city blur by as Taiju flies above houses and people, shouting apologetically when he nearly hits other fliers when he hastens his pace. Senkū tries to enjoy the wind ruffling through his hair and the curving sway of Taiju’s flapping but the numbness is beginning to make him worry.

When they do arrive at his house, Byakuya is home and looking like he went through a Category 6 panic attack as the house is torn apart. The man stops what he’s doing and spots Senkū trying to squirm out of Taiju’s surprisingly strong hold.

The worry on his face morphs into one of horror once he does, but his legs buckle the moment his feet meet solid ground and Taiju catches him before he manages to plant his face to the floor. That would’ve been horribly embarrassing..

“Senkū!” Byakuya cries, snatching him away from Taiju and holding him close, crying tears of relief. Senkū sighs and reaches around the man’s neck to give him a weak hug, hoping the man would stop blubbering over him.

“What were you _thinking_!?” Byakuya sobs, “You could have gotten yourself _killed_ out there, Senkū! What on earth made you leave the safety of this house?” He pales when he takes in Senkū’s body, tracing the small, arching scars beginning at the shoulder, branching around his neck and diving down an arm. Byakuya’s fears reach a new height once he examines Senkū’s wings, moving the twitching limb to see his smoking feathers. He feels horrible when the boy whimpers at the gentle prodding of his fingers.

“Senkū, this is serious we need to take you to the hospital. There’s no way for me to know what injuries you have besides what’s on your skin.”

“Byakuya-san! Can I please come with you! I want to make sure Senkū is alright” Taiju bows.

Byakuya eyes the boy with scrutiny. Scruffy, dirty, decently dressed… but he possesses an honest face and open eyes. He looks at Senkū and back at Taiju before sighing.

“You’re the boy that saved my son,” he asks, feeling worn out yet still on edge as Senkū burrows his face in his neck.

“Yes, sir! My name is Ōki Taiju, and I’m Senkū’s friend!”

Byakuya’s brows disappear into his hairline. Senkū, the little gremlin mastermind in the making, the snarkiest little brat any man could have, made a friend today that won’t hurt his feelings by not destroying any of his inventions? Why, it’s the most heartwarming thing to happen to Senkū, even if the circumstances are far less favorable.

Swiftly, he grabs his keys and gestures for Taiju to follow him, smiling when the boy’s chocolate eyes shine with determination.

“C'mon, squirt. The hospital ain’t too far from here. Once Senkū’s settled down we can talk.”

Well, the reunion could have been worse. If Byakuya wasn’t simply holding him and he had more energy he’d never let the old man carry him like a stuffed toy.

“Senkū, I love you buddy, but you’re grounded. End of discussion.”

And yeah, he gets grounded for pulling this stunt. No Sciencing for a week as he recovers in a hospital bed. He’ll be bored to tears on the second night.

* * *

When Senkū celebrates his tenth birthday, he and Taiju meet Yuzuriha for the first time at the park in spring of 2011 while climbing trees to look for a bird’s nest.

Busy following a pretty blue butterfly, Yuzuriha stumbles upon them by mere chance, watching curiously as Senkū gently deposits a small chick back into the safety of the nest mere moments before the parent returns with help from Taiju’s secure hold. The beautiful sparrow squawks at them fiercely and Senkū grin, relief in his features now that he knows the baby wouldn’t be fending for itself after falling from the branch.

“Great job, Senkū!”

“Oi, you were the one holding me up! I would have fallen by now!”

“But you put the baby bird back in the nest!”

“Oh, huff it, you big oaf!”

The sight almost makes her giggle. What strange boys.

“What were you doing,” she asks, emerging from a bush.

Senkū looks at her from his spot in the tree, eyes holding conflict as Taiju peers down at her with a friendly grin.

“Hello! We’re helping baby birds get back to their nests!”

Yuzuriha tilts her head in wonder, her gaze switching from boy to boy curiously.

Senkū tenses, uncomfortable by her gaze. Taiju picks up on it and redirects her attention by loudly stating, “We will come down and introduce ourselves! Please give us a moment!”

“O-Okay!” She jumps at his volume.

The boys descend, Senkū far more slowly and cautiously than Taiju does, eyeing her suspiciously like she’s going to bite him. The other boy leaps out of the tree to land in a crouch, greeting her with enthusiasm. He then offers to help and Senkū grudgingly scowls, resigning himself to accept it when it’s clear he’s no climber. Once both are safely on the ground she approaches with a small smile, her wings fluttering sheepishly behind her.

Senkū eyes them, analyzing them like he does with everyone else’s wings. Her’s are on the smaller side, colored a chocolate brown with tan bands tipping her primary feathers. She wears a simple sleeveless white top with a pink skirt, rain boots covering her legs. She wears a pink ribbon around her neck that shines in the sunlight. Physically, she is petite, and her chocolate hair and eyes are an average trait but she’s what most people would say is on the adorable side.

Everything about her creeps him out but that could be him being antisocial with strangers.

Eyeing Taiju, Senkū sees a faint blush on his face.

Oh dear Einstein, he likes her? He wonders if he should even bring it up in the first place or be a decent human being and let it be for the bigger boy’s sake. Never before has he seen Taiju look quite this speechless towards anyone before.

“M-My name’s Ogawa Yuzuriha! It’s nice to meet you!” She then bows and then straightens, waiting for them to return the gesture.

Taiju, unsurprisingly, volunteers first.

“My name’s Ōki Taiju! My friend here is Ishigami Senkū! We’re pleased to make your acquaintance!”

Senkū goes to protest but ultimately resigns himself. He really wants to get back to his rocket and test it out but Taiju spotted a baby bird falling from its nest and they had to help it before predators killed it. Meeting a complete stranger isn’t how he expected to spend his afternoon with his best friend and he’s seriously uncomfortable talking to Yuzuriha now that it’s evident she won’t leave anytime soon, but Taiju invites her to help test out the rocket and he doesn’t get a chance to protest before Taiju’s snagging her hand and zooming off to their camp.

When they get to testing the rocket, Taiju discreetly leans in and whispers a short sentence in his ear.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, Senkū. Give her a chance, please?”

Senkū frowns and eyes Yuzuriha, the girl oblivious to his stare as she looks over the rocket with curiosity. He then looks into Taiju’s honest brown eyes and the encouraging smile before he gives him a hesitant nod. The smile he receives is brighter than the setting sun at that moment.

They test the rocket soon after, Senkū launching into a very detailed lecture about aeronautics and engineering, the reason for the current field test as he jots down notes and equations, eager to tell them both his observations and the calculations he had to make and account for before he could test it out, and though Taiju will forever be the lovable, clueless airhead, Yuzuriha tries her best to follow along even if she gets lost five minutes into his three hour lecture.

But she never leaves, nor does she shy away from his obvious love for anything science. In fact, she keeps returning to the park on days he and Taiju test out inventions, frequently participating in asking questions while Senkū is off on another tangent. Soon, within eight months of them meeting up to test Senkū’s creations in what they consider their clearing, Senkū feels they’ve become close friends. The missing piece is finally in place.

It’s also the beginning of a beautiful realization that Taiju has a crush on the female member of the group and Senkū takes this opportunity to tease the living daylights out of his best friend every time Yuzuriha graces their eyes. 

* * *

Reaching the age of 16 and being the president of the Science Club (founded by yours truly) was a steady course to getting his career roadmap accomplished. Today, like any other day was supposed to be another boring day at school as he creates his own brand of gasoline. teasing Taiju for his ever-constant pining over the usually oblivious Yuzuriha. _A five-year pining_ , mind you, but Senkū doesn't pay fickle things such as love much attention when he's currently soaking up information on the Soyuz’s crew up in space and getting a project done for class.

But space—it's such an exhilarating thought niggling at the back of his mind since he was in preschool. He knows that one day, with a lot of hard work and determination, he'll be among the best of scientific names to discover so much more than what he can access on the wide public internet and his lessons with a man named Xeno who works at NASA alongside Byakuya, even if he'll have to endure the older man’s eccentric sense of humor once he too works there.

Because he’ll make it there. Even if it takes him several decades to get there, he's confident he'll get in within a decade. All he needs is resources and the best college he can get into and bam! he’s where he’ll want to be.

_Among the Stars._

So focused in his thoughts he almost misses Taiju bursting in like a mad cow, startling many of his fellow science students with the loud bang of the door like he's done so many times before. Senkū hass long gotten used to the teen’s obnoxious entrances to not startle or drop beakers anymore. The first time was disastrous enough back in seventh grade.

Senkū sighs and sets aside his notes, knowing he'll have to address this soon. The Big Oaf looks like he's about to molt on the spot with how hard his wings are shaking.

“Senkū! They're gonna have a sky race in the field!”

Senkū gives him a hum of intrigue.

“Big Oaf, I'm trying to do an experiment.”

“That's no mere experiment…” One of the teens at the back blanches.

“So, what’re you doing?” Taiju asks

Senkū chuckles. “I'm working on lignocellulosic hydrolysates to see if I can extract furfural and 5-hydroxymethylfurfural to make a new eutectic solvent for Takeshi-sensei. He says I need a complex formula to _impress_ him instead of making gasoline.”

“So, something very complex…?” Taiju scratches his head as his face turns blank.

“Something like that.”

_He says it so casually!_

“But since they need me for a sky race, I'll be able to leave it for a while. As long as Haku-kun doesn't _touch my stuff again_.”

Haku, an averagely built boy with plum-colored hair and brown eyes flinches, sweating buckets when Senkū gives him a patented _Evil-Senkū Glare™_.

“You know, there are roses growing around the gardens. I can easily get cythilicus from the rosehip and use it on you. You should know what that is and what I can make from that, hm?”

Haku pales. “Y-Yes! I'm sorry, I won't touch your projects again, Senkū-sensei!”

“Good!” Senkū beams, the evil aura gone in a blink. Taiju laughs as Senkū struts to the door, dodging Taiju’s attempt at hugging him and sliding his hands in his lab coat.

“So? Why'd they ask for me, Taiju? Don't they have other fliers they can use this time?”

Taiju looks horribly guilty at the question and starts tugging at his sleeves.

Oh dear lord, he knows where this is going.

“W-Well, I may have told them that you're a… champion flier.”

Senkū suppresses the urge to facepalm and gives him a flat look.

“And why, pray tell, have you told them _again_? I have work to do, you big oaf. I can't keep walking away just so that people believe in your claim about my flying.”

“I'm sorry, Senku! But they were saying things about you I didn't agree with and they challenged you to a sky race.”

The scientist cleans out an ear, looking completely uninterested in partaking in a leisure race, wings twitching as he blows away the wad of wax from his pinky.

“So? Why should I listen to a group of brain-dead neanderthals that don't know the difference between a horse and a cow?”

“They said you can't fly.”

Senkū gives him a comically blank face.

“So they say,” he mutters. He breathes a drawn out sigh. Again the lower-minded students, or bullies as the average kid calls them, try to challenge him at a sky race for dominance? How many times has it been since they started that annoying trend as a form of bullying? Ah, yes. Since seventh grade when he first showed off his skill in that loop race around Hakone’s Buddha statue.

Senkū chuckles as he palms his face and looks at Taiju with hard eyes.

“We'll see about that.”

With Taiju in tow, Senkū makes his way out of the main building to walk onto the track where three burly boys wait for him, all three grinning like a pack of foxes.

“So,” Senkū starts as he stops in front of them, Taiju hovering over him. “Care to tell me why I’m here for this ridiculous challenge of yours?”

One of them laughs and brandishes his fists at him.

“We’re sick and tired of having scrawny little Senkū beat us in sky races. So, we’re here to put you in your place.”

Senkū picks his ear. He was right. Big waste of time.

“Yeah, about that. Teachers already know about your little scheme.”

One of them pale a dreadful pasty white at the mention of teachers.

“You need to realise that I’ll always be faster. Statistically, I have an advantage over all of you, being lighter, leaner, and possessing twice the wingspan than is normally considered in a modern human being. This means less drag. Add the fact I can easily ride wind currents and you have a 10 billion percent natural born flier. You, however, don’t have a millimeter of a chance riding those currents or even gaining enough speed on the first wing thrust. With how heavy you are and factoring in your height and weight, speed isn't your best attribute for a sky race.”

The boys’ faces take on an unbecoming shade of red as Senkū ribs them with a simple calculation, dumbed down of course so as to not confuse them on the error they’re making in challenging him.Taiju looks at him with something akin to respect or admiration.

If Senkū were a normal person he would have preened from the attention, but he isn't a normal person so that line of thinking doesn’t mean anything to him. Preening at something as simple as admiration or respect is illogical. It’s a juvenile reaction for attention and Senkū has no qualms in ridding himself of the sentiment. Science is far more important to him than beating his peers at something that’s as natural to him as science is.

“Like hell I’ll let you go mouthing at me like that!”

The biggest one towers over him, flesh curling with slight muscle as his shadow swallows Senkū. With a growl, the boy rears an arm and thrusts it forward for a punch aiming at Senkū’s face.

The red-eyed male grins and unfolds his wings, flapping them hard enough to send the offender flying back a few meters but the boy gets back up, angrier than before. Senkū folds his wings and side steps the next punch, grinning from ear to ear when he hears the principal stalking forward with a furious scowl on her face.

“Hitoshi. My office. _Now._ ”

The teen looks ready to blow a gasket with how red his face looks right now. Any other time Senkū would have thought the boy was experiencing a fever with how red it is. When the principal leaves carting away the bully to meet his doom, Senkū chuckles and relaxes his wings, the few feathers that puffed up smoothing over as tension releases.

Looking at the sky as Taiju bounces around him with too much energy, Senkū figures it’s a good day for a high altitude fly after he gets out of school later in the day. Partially cloudy skies are perfect for current gliding.

He looks at his watch and clicks his tongue.

“Come on, big oaf. We still have a few minutes of class time. At break, please for the love of all that is Einstein, go and confess to Yuzuriha already. It’s been five years and you’re still pining like a love-drunk monkey.”

Taiju splutters behind him, whining about the smaller boy teasing him.

Senkū wouldn’t have it any other way, and when break comes upon them Taiju elects to storm into the science lab again and roar like some deranged lion calling his name.

“Senkū! I’m going to do it! I’m going to tell Yuzuriha how I feel!”

_Well, it’s about damn time._

“And this has anything to do with me, how?” He inserts another vial into his invention, pouring yet another solution to distill the gasoline he’s producing. Then he gets an idea, a brilliant idea that will no doubt both throw his classmates for a loop but also make a point about Taiju. He isolates a small mixture of his concoction and pours it in a flask, turning to Taiju with his patented Evil Grin. Because of the way his hair stands up and how his wings hike up around his shoulders the whole school thinks he’s some mad scientist on the path of chemical warfare. The thought is both amusing as it is illogical, but he’d take the title if it stops people from bugging him.

He offers the flask to Taiju, who takes it with innocent curiosity.

“By using that you’ll secrete pheromones like crazy and drive your ability to stimulate her by 10,000,000,000%.” He can see a lot of heads perking up at the bluff and he can’t wait to reveal the farce when their hopes are close to bursting, the fools. “Think of it as a love drug. If you really wanna go for it, just use that.”

Taiju scrutinizes the flask and flares his nostrils, giving a blank stare before pouring the liquid in the sink, oblivious to the devastation writing itself in the faces of the other occupants who were interested in the contents. Senkū smirks at his decision, his wings curling pleasantly as Taiju sets down the flask and looks him in the eye, brown wings flaring wide.

“Senkū—I am grateful you made this for me, but I don’t want to use a dishonest move on Yuzuriha. She deserves more than that.”

Senkū gives him a coy grin, but the larger teen can see the fond glow in his usually flat red eyes giving their approval.

“Well then, go ahead. Stop kicking around the bush already or I’ll leave your ass. I’m not waiting forever to go home today, not one millimeter.”

A yell of gratitude roars back and the door slams closed, startling a girl he vaguely recalls is Hinata into spilling her vial of carbolic acid on her coat and then screaming as she frantically tries to take it off. Kaito, her partner, rushes to help her and wrenches it off. Senkū lets out a gruff sigh as he assists in neutralizing the chemical before cleaning it up, directing a glare at the pair.

“As exhilarating as chemistry is, wearing it isn’t a great idea.”

“I-I’m sorry, Senkū-senpai!”

Senkū scoffs but softens his expression some. There isn’t a need to scold a student for being startled. He’ll have to talk to Taiju about his entrances or someone, somehow, will start spilling sulfuric acid or something equally as dangerous around each other and then it’s up to him to clean up after them before permanent damage can be done.

The door slams open once more and Taiju walks in, fists balling tightly and startling poor Hinata again. Thankfully without something delicate in her hands.

“Senkū! I forgot to tell you, but Satoshi-sensei asked me to remind you about your wing exam!”

The red-eyed scientist cringes. Seriously? Today? He doesn’t have the patience to go for a wing exam today! Wing exams are tedious, finicky little tests designed to monitor and record the condition of an individual’s wings every three months. If they score low it’s usually due to illness, disease, or injury, with plumage looking so awful that the color is muddled and the feathers are distorted, broken, or splitting. Score high, and the wings should be well-cared for and bear glossy, silky-soft plumage. Average scores are usually from individuals who preen decently but don’t go as far as to treat them a few hours of the day. That would be Taiju, but his feathers are decently well-cared for.

It still feels like a waste of time.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Senkū smirks as Taiju flies down to meet Yuzuriha at the old camphor tree, watching with bated amusement as the boy sputters in front of her. He spots her salmon-colored ribbon, the same one she’s worn since they met at age 10, tied around the lowest limb and wonders what she’s doing with it.

“I bet 100 yen he gets his ass dumped six feet under.”

Hoh? How interesting. A bet to determine what the outcome would be.

Senkū eyes the students for a second, smirking to himself as he pulls out change in front of the vending machine. An energy drink doesn’t sound too bad right now.

“Nah, I bet 500 that he’s definitely getting dumped.”

“Ha! I bet 1,000 yen for the same. No way she’ll accept his confession!”

Senkū grins. “I bet 10,000 yen for him to not get dumped.”

“Whaaat? You serious, Senpai?”

“With how he lumbers about I’m surprised he’s actually gonna do it, Senkū-senpai.”

Red eyes crinkle in amusement. Oh, such fools for thinking so illogically. They literally can't see the equation here. It’s as plain as two kids learning how to turn fire green using boric acid in a beginner’s chemistry kit. Yuzuriha would undoubtedly accept Taiju’s feelings. It’s not hard to see that, but the entire school sees him as an equal to an affectionate caveman and Yuzuriha, a galactic marvel no one is worthy to touch.

A pretty nauseating thing to associate them with but perhaps the best thing to compare them with the way rumors usually form in this school. The only chaotic one he doesn’t agree with is the one when people started getting the idea that he is a vampire simply because of the way he looks. Sure, he isn’t very tan but Byakuya says it’s a condition. The only one he thinks that could be is anemia or albinism but he never experienced any of the following symptoms. And sure, he has red eyes and white hair gradually fading to pine-green ends, but according to Byakuya his hair isn’t outrageous or an act of delinquency, it’s just genetics.

He opens the can and takes a swig of his drink, satisfied that the liquid quenches his thirst before his instincts wipe out the pleasant feeling with the cold rigidity of utter wrongness that permeates the air, stilling the sounds around him, and brings a violent shiver to run through his being. It’s so intense that his wings shake, his feathers all puffing out in agitation just as a faint green light makes itself known far into the horizon.

His fellow science students all gasp in fear at the boy’s reaction before pointing and shouting at the phenomenon, the horrible feeling spiking in Senkū’s chest as the light encroaches at incredible speeds. Fear takes hold and Senkū drops his energy drink, his wings plastering tightly against his back. Screams erupt and disappear as soon as they are heard, and before his eyes people turn gray and rough—like the surface of stone—before everything goes black, the sound of panicking people and birds vanishing, touch dwindling until it all goes numb, taste of citrus energy drinks gone, and the smell of dust and paper makes way to empty smell.

He checked his phone before it all went wrong. He calculates the current time, reassesses his situation before an idea comes forth.

There’s no reason for everyone to be affected. It could be a new biological weapon developed by a foreign country like North Korea or even Russia intended to use on Japan as an experiment? A sort of test drive to see if it could be used in chemical warfare on the rest of the world? Or does it have alien origins that for now he can’t scientifically prove as correct rather than an illogical assumption. He’ll count the seconds, keep time until he figures out a way to solve what’s going on. And then he’ll just resume life as it should.

After all, there’s a beautifully open sky waiting for him once school lets out, with Taiju and Yuzuriha waiting for him. It would be a shame to miss out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you've gotten this far then I thank you for giving this story a chance. (I know most people would be put off by the idea I've presented.)
> 
> Leave a comment and a kudos to let me know if you liked it? Hated it? Criticism is appreciated to further help evolve this story from a simple idea to something (hopefully) grand. Thank you for reading! 🙏


	2. Counting the Seconds Until Critical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And in the middle of it all, somewhere in Japan lies the statue of a young scientist just waiting to free himself from his prison, hoping, wishing that things will be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here will be a montage (of sorts?) of Senkū's first week. Rewrote the chapter twice before I felt it was satisfactory. Not as many witty Senkū quips because I feel it didn't fit.
> 
> I pulled two all-nighters for this, my peeps. Enjoy! 😸
> 
> A/N: 11/09/20 - Corrected mistakes found in text.

_Senkū keeps counting, his statue vulnerable to nature as humanity’s footprint on the Earth is wiped away in the passage of time. The high school bears foundation damage and encroaching plants, trees growing between the classrooms and labs that were once frequented by lively teenage students._

_Their clothes have long since eroded, and the building grows more unstable until a dam crumbles, age ripping its bones apart to flood the city, wiping out the school and washing away an innumerable amount of statues. Some are blessed to have been swept away unharmed, others meet misfortune as the building collapses, crushing those that were trapped within. Skyscrapers worldwide crumble, glass long gone and green colors the buildings. Animals thrive, water grows crystal clearer, and the air clears to reveal beautiful blue skies free of smog. Pictures turn to dust, data banks erode, books rot away. Physical memories of humanity gone._

_Humanity and its precious history slowly fades as the years tick. Discoveries, medical advancements, evolving space exploration and so much more disappear, leaving behind a brand new world full of green and a hidden trove of disparity._

_And in the middle of it all, somewhere in Japan lies the statue of a young scientist just waiting to free himself from his prison, hoping, wishing that things will be fine._

_Like those little sparrows he saved from the tree—he’ll save every last human, along with the 7 billion encased in stone._

* * *

_I have to keep the date… I can’t let my consciousness fade._

Darkness and silence, his only companions since that green light enveloped the sky. So far, he’s counted 62,481,801,608 seconds. Calculating that and taking into account the leap years equates to over 1,979 years passing by in what feels like both an eternity and a proverbial blink of an eye.

Counting while simultaneously thinking and trying to keep himself awake is a monumental task, so much that it hurts, but he's not giving up. Every 800,000 seconds he finds himself losing his grip on his consciousness, his mind pleading for him to give up and sleep, but he’d snap back a split second later resuming his arduous counting after cursing his slip-up. He needs to keep the date, has to make it through without losing himself to the depravity that is his own mind. He can’t see, nor can he feel or smell or taste anything anymore, hasn’t for a long time. It doesn’t even feel like he’s been lying around for centuries. It’s a lightless, numb void where he’s stuck with his own swirling mass of thoughts and equations, now automatically attuned to keeping track of time.

Every spring though, he tries to break free. Willing himself to get up and break out of this prison. Every year he fails, forced to count until the next spring approaches and repeating the same loss again.

Senkū attempts to remember Earth as he does so, recalling fuzzy images of the lush green trees and blue skies he very much loved to dominate. He tries to quiz himself on arithmetic and chemistry, rocket science, survival skills, meaningless trivia about calcite and its uses, of the renowned scientist Marie Curie and inventor Thomas Edison. He tries to complete complicated math problems factoring wind and sunlight values to keep himself sharp as he struggles to count. Losing any important information is a death sentence. He can’t afford to have his mind wandering like Taiju does when Yuzuriha enters the scene.

_“Now, I have to hold this beaker and keep the hydrofluoric acid steady. You’ll keep the temperature stable. Putting too much can make it explode, so don’t get distracted.”_

_“I understand!”_

_“And please, for the love of Einstein, don’t use too much heat!”_

_“I won’t!”_

_Yuzuriha happens to walk in and Taiju’s attention switches to her, his finger slipping to turn up the heat. I tried to stop him but by the time I yelled at him for it the whole thing exploded in our faces and damaged some of my equipment._

_I gave him hell, heh; but it was funny, nonetheless._

Come to think of it, didn’t Taiju have brown wings with darker spots decorating the middle of his secondary feathers? And he’s sure that they weren’t long as they were wide, better for carrying things and shooting upwards than speeding forward. Yuzuriha’s wings are smaller, only able to carry a few dozen kilos over her own weight, her feathers the color of chocolate and tan feather bands.

But when it comes to wings, he knows his own wings the best, though the mental image is a hazy one even for him. Pure white, like no other wing color in the world, pine green tipping his feathers while lighter green speckles in spots over it. His wings might also bear Lichtenberg marks that never really faded but he isn’t so sure. Maybe the same Lichtenberg scarring branching from his neck, down his arm, and ending at his hip? Byakuya once said that a one-of-a-kind set of wings like his are a special trait to have for potential suitors, minus the scars (which he mercifully ignored for Senkū’s sake). Senkū remembers bluntly expressing disinterest to them all at some point until it took beating them in a sky race to get the point across. He was only twelve at the time, and Byakuya always beat them off with a stick if the races didn’t work.

It would have been humorous if he took it seriously at the time.

He wonders what the old man was doing when he was trapped. Did he live through it or was he affected by the light like everyone else? But the older man was in space on the Soyuz, so the question would be: if the International Space Station was affected then the Station would have plummeted ages ago and destroyed anything within and around it to dust, or even melt everything inside with the heat from entering Earth’s atmosphere while decimating a large portion of a city somewhere. It's happened before, and not just from stations or satellites becoming victims of the gravitational pull. 

_1… 2… 3… 4… 5..._

Taiju—the big oaf was about to confess his feelings to Yuzuriha. A bit of sadness sparks within at the thought, about the teen being cut off before he could get that chance after waiting half a decade due to nervousness. He was 10 billion percent sure she would have accepted if that light hadn’t stopped her. Who knows where they are or what’s happened to them at all, but he’ll find out. He always does. He just needs to get out of whatever’s holding him prisoner before he can help them.

Maybe the skies will be as bright as he vaguely remembers? Colors have faded in his memory, but the memory of his first flight is still clear to him. It was when Byakuya thought it was a good day to be outside flying by the beach, that it would be fun for the both of them after being stuck indoors so long during a project that required adult supervision and a ton of research. Byakuya brought him to where the ocean connects with the sky and that’s where he’d learned to fly with his help. It was so beautifully exhilarating that he never wanted to leave, forever wanting to fly freely with Byuakuya at his back, his wider slate-gray wings shadowing him from the sun as he refined his flying form to better suit him.

His anticipation to leave this damnable prison and finally fly free grows like a seed, steadily widening and taking root in his thoughts. He’ll look forward to it. As a high altitude flier with a penchant for high speed racing he’ll get his bearings once he breathes air and his wings join the winds. He knows he will. And once Taiju and Yuzuriha are found, they can all set off on the path to restoring what was lost with all the knowledge he’s accumulated. With that, all he needs is time, diligence, determination, and a lot of fun.

_It’s what Byakuya would have wanted._

* * *

_9… 10… 1… 2…_

2,594 years. He’s still thinking of Taiju, and Byakuya, and even Yuzuriha when he gets bored of another topic he’s exhausted, like trigonometry. Those three stick the most in Senkū’s memories out of any other face he’s seen. His fellow science students are just that. Science students. Their faces have become a blank canvas long ago, their coats the same white material as his own, their hair color maybe losing what semblance of color they may have possessed. He does remember the city in all its splendorous human ingenuity, technology taking the reins of laborious productivity and improving the quality of life. The dark side of it all is the depravity of humanity, the suffering of the kind and the exploitation of the young. He isn’t blind as to what lurked beyond the splendor and the lights, well aware that many of the students either fell in one category of three: the privileged, the hard-earned, and the unfortunate. The latter two categories held the largest number of the student body while the former only harbored fewer, easily identifiable by their clothing of choice, their accommodations, the way they behaved—Senkū was aware of it all and yet he kept to himself.

He is a middle class dependent with a single adopted father who often worked overseas in America, working for NASA to hopefully achieve his goal of going to space. Senkū helped him, of course, and it was due to his efforts in aiding the man he loved as a father to provide him a chance, a higher statistic to win over the board as a return gift for giving him a chance to learn more about science. And he succeeded.

That livestream he watched in class showed him Byakuya grinning like a loon, swarming to the host and stealing the mike to shout out to the world his love for his son and a promise to bring him a multitude of gifts once their mission was complete.

He would laugh if he has the capacity to do so.

Byakuya and his stupid ticks aside, he misses the old man, Taiju’s overbearing positivity, and Yuzuriha’s overwhelming kindness she showered onto him whenever she stopped by. Like the time she thought it helped give him strength as he battles the call of sleep in favor of counting. It’s all he can do when there’s nothing else to occupy his thoughts than counting.

_5… 6… 7… 8…_

He just needs to break out. He just needs to keep counting until the day he sees the world again. He’ll gather allies, cross oceans for resources, even get to the moon if he has to, but he’ll save humanity. It doesn’t matter if it takes a lifetime to do it, he won’t fail. That is a promise. A promise to his family once they reunite.

_3… 4… 5… 6…_

* * *

This hurts. It hurts so much. His brain is counting, the numbers ticking in the back of his mind. The forefront struggles to stay awake, determined to count no matter how much time has passed.

The limit for his awareness still remains to be 800,000 seconds in between, but it feels as though his mind attempts to break down when he reaches it. The counting continues, but he’s calculated that every 9th to 10th day it feels as though he’s losing his mind. The monotony, the numbness, the echoes of his own voice counting more blasted seconds seeks to crumble as his mind begs for release. He won’t allow it. Refuses it. It would only put him in danger if he does.

Every year, his mind is trying to break down at least 40 times. It’s exhausting, it’s painful, stressful to a degree, but the numbers have to increase. His goal is to break out during a warm season. He targets spring, which gives him ample time to recover and look for food and materials. If he frees himself during the winter then he’s screwed. If starvation won’t kill him, hypothermia will, and he is well acquainted with the fact that he’s much more susceptible to the cold than he wants to be even if he bunches his wings around him. Every spring he’s tried to break out, screaming unintelligibly with curses intermixed, but he bides his time, counts another year, and bullies himself to get up.

_Get up.. why won’t you get up... get up, get up, Get Up, **GET UP!**_

* * *

When he hears something other than his own screaming voice for the first time in over 3,700 years, he almost has a panic attack.

It’s jarring to know that after so long in silence, that cracking, chipping noise is as loud as several machine guns firing off in his ear, rattling his senses as a rush of almost unfamiliar noise assaults him from every direction. His heart beats wildly in his chest like a heated steam engine and he entertains the thought that it’s doing everything in its power to break free from his rib cage.

It’s dark outside, but as more of him is freed his mouth pushes open to suck in air. His lungs hurt; it feels as though the air within was sucked dry in the time he was petrified. What in the world…?

But he takes a moment to think as he relishes in breathing, listening to crickets and far off birds in the night.

Against his own volition, his body shuts down on him out of pure exhaustion and he later wakes up to a blinding morning.

The sun nearly blinds him, a bright film moving across his closed eyelids. When he blinks it almost makes his eyes water. It hurts, like he’s become extremely sensitive to sunlight in similar fashion to accidentally turning the telescope to the sun. Even the wind feels like it’s scraping along his eyeballs and skin the longer he lies there and it’s alarming to know when it wasn’t an issue before.

It feels strange. Stranger than anything he’s felt besides going through puberty, and those days were filled with an endless sea of questions regarding the chemical changes taking hold of his brain that thankfully didn’t include a romantic interest, which is just oxytocin pumping through the brain. Watching his fellows in school act like fools around the opposite or same sex told him enough about the _joys of growing up_ , as Byakuya once sang one night.

He’s glad he’s a human being rather than a rat or a rabbit.

Slowly, more feeling returns to him at the pace of a slow-eating acid, so slow it brings a shiver up his spine. The crumbling noises around him increase, splitting apart and then giving way to a rush of sensations that nearly overwhelm him. His body jumps and he hisses at the discomfort the action brings, muscles sore and rigid as he lifts his arms to brace himself against the ground to sit up.

Oh, for the love of Einstein this feels more like he’s run a marathon up Mt. Fuji wearing nothing but a weighted speedo, cement blocks on his ankles and wrists, and carrying a three-hundred pound holstein calf!

Hold up. He’s free. He’s moving. He can hear, smell, see, and touch things again.

_He’s done it._

Oh, he can picture himself now, screaming he’s broken out with tears in his eyes, but logically he wouldn’t. It’s much too boisterous of a reaction and even if he wanted to he would cringe just thinking about it.

Something slides off his chest and he blinks, looking down.

His lap is full of stone fragments, warm to the touch yet thin as glass as he picks up a piece. Examining it really doesn’t have anything of importance popping up in his head but as he flips the fragment around he frowns. This is what’s been keeping him imprisoned for so many years? A layer made of stone?

So many questions fester in his brain. Does it have properties similar to a sci-fi machine or gadget commonly referred to as nanites, with the effect of turning flesh to rock by entering the bloodstream? Is it aliens testing a weapon that works on a molecular level? A blood borne pathogen? A virus?

Thinking back to how it all started, Taiju was about to confess to Yuzuriha, the science students were all gossiping and placed bets against the usually boisterous teen while he bet that Yuzuriha would accept, because come on—she had eyes on him since the day he gave her a small bouquet of red, pink and white carnations. Senkū nearly spit up a lung from laughing incredulously and the girl never realized why while Taiju blushed ten shades of crimson.

But the thing that changed was the ominous shiver that violently ripped through him, his wings plastering themselves to his back in alarm. Whilst the other students began to freak out over the unusual reaction, he was staring at the green light enveloping the sky before it all went dark and his senses were ripped away from him.

That green light. That’s the catalyst that started it all, and looking around tells him that civilization hasn’t graced these lands for an extensively long period of time.

He turns his head around, wincing at a tug in his neck. Frowning, he reaches for his nape and furrows his brows when he feels something rough attached to his neck, practically melding with his skin. It’s uncomfortable and feels unnatural, partially numb, but its surface is rough and hard.

A stone fragment still attached? He gives an experimental tug and hisses. It doesn’t budge. Even trying to move it tugs at his hair and skin like gorilla glue and he isn't keen on mutilating himself if it is indeed attached to his flesh.

Senkū sighs and decides to leave it be. He’ll get back to it once he has the time to idly investigate it. Gazing up at the trees swaying above him he spots birds flying overhead, their calls echoing in the wind. Around him grass dances to the whims of air, wind rushes from a far off valley, water courses somewhere to his right, and he can distinctly hear deer calling in the distance. It’s strange, hearing the sounds of the wild with such nauseating clarity when he remembers the distant bustling cityscape filled with chattering people and the rumbling of cars.

In fact, it's too painful for him to hear all of this noise after such a long time in silent darkness. What should be distant chirping sounds like the sirens of a police car streaking by, the wind like a high-pitched accordion, and the grass tickling his legs feel as if a horde of tiny fingers brush against the pale skin. It’s disturbing.

_117,354,889,583… 117, 354,889,584… 117,354,889,585_ —no. There's no need to continue that line of thought, but as he moves onto his knees and slowly wrestles himself to stand for the first time, he finds himself distantly thinking of the numbers counting in the back of his mind like a demented clock that never stops.

_April 1st, 5738 AD, Tuesday, 11:27 AM..._

His eyes widen and quickly he looks for a sharp rock, anything to write as more stone fragments break off his body to pool around the indent that housed him for years.

He has to write it down, has to write the date! The date he was de-petrified from the rock prison trapping him in that void. Shuffling his hands around and forcing himself not to feel overwhelmed from the sensations, Senkū finds a rock sharp enough to do just that. He stumbles to the nearest tree, a cedar tree, and nearly topples back. Larger fragments break apart and scatter in the grass, lightening the weight on his wings. Shrugging, he works to carve the date that echoes in his mind into the bark, urging him to preserve those precious numbers even though he’ll remember it forever in the farthest reaches of his brain.

Senkū pushes the rock deeper, gouging out wood even as his arm trembles from the effort. He can’t tell if it’s because he feels so weak from his awakening or his emotions are running rampant after realizing the importance of this.

Once done, he sits back and gazes at the date. It stares back at him. He sighs roughly before scrubbing his face. Looking to the side, he examines his pit where many of the fragments sit almost innocently.

“I’m out, but I’m the only one out here,” are the sobering, sinking words that tumble from his lips. “I’ll need to search my surroundings for anything relevant, and even mark that indent. It should give me clues.”

The teen wanders around looking for palm-sized rocks to mark the spot, feeling somewhat uncomfortable walking around naked. He misses the comfortable fit of his coat but alone and with no one else walking around to see him he thinks it’s fine, even if the wind makes his skin feel increasingly sensitive.

Lining them up, he gazes at it, the imprint perfectly taking after his own body’s shape. He takes into account the position he was lying on, the way the fragments fell from his body. If he keeps them all for later analysis he can come to a solution, but for now he’ll dig a hole and place every fragment he can find. There’s bound to be answers once he has the right tools.

A rustle gets his attention and he tenses, but he relaxes when he sees a small group of monkeys hanging from a tree six meters to his left. A moment of silence grows between them as the monkeys stare at him before shrieking and running off, looking back at him like he’s the boogie man.

The reaction throws him off.

“Am I… the first person these monkeys have seen before?” It’s perfectly plausible, but the over-the-top reaction is 10 billion percent weird and he isn’t questioning it.

* * *

Senkū spends the next hour scouting his surroundings, thankfully finding a cluster of vines to properly make himself look decent. The one thing he finds other than the nature that flourishes are the stone statues of people with moss and plants growing on them. Many of them were either oblivious or looking upwards in terror at the time the Green Light hit. They're all naked, and humorously enough some of them have moss or plants growing on their nether regions to give them a modicum of decency.

He also finds that an alarming amount of them either are damaged or worn down. Some of them are children, some with missing limbs or worn-down hair and fingers. Some clutch at their parents who look like they were doting on them with what he thinks might've been toys or an outing. A little girl is frozen mid-walk with her elbows parallel to her shoulders and her tiny hands clutching at her armpits. Her mother behind her has a fond expression on her face, a hand to her lips.

Studying them, he looks at his own pale skin, free of marks while the statues around him are frozen in time, a dark gray rock than soft flesh.

If that’s the case, he’ll forgive the monkeys for reacting the way they did when they found a shiny monkey like him for the first time. He’d seen that full body shiver plain as day.

He frowns.

It’s been 117,354,893,870 seconds since the Green Light turned everyone into stone. Civilization didn’t survive. It’s all gone. The people around him probably lost consciousness soon after being turned. The monumental task of keeping time could be seen as torture and the stress of keeping himself awake left him with a migraine. It still hasn’t gone but it’s manageable for the time being. Logically, plenty of rest and fluids will do the trick for now.

Looking across the landscape, he grins. He’ll make it through. He always does. A little setback like this won’t hold him off for long.

Chuckling, Senkū heads back to where he woke up and gathers wood to start a fire regardless if monkeys gather at a distance to watch him. Mostly out of curiosity than hostility. The first attempt at making a fire ends with him feeling stupid. He frowns and continues, growling when he can’t get it started. If he’s going to have to rebuild civilization from the ground up he needs to start getting tools and materials. If the wood won’t burst into a small flame then he’ll have to give it a rest. Already sunset is upon him and he needs to find a relatively safe place to sleep. It’ll have to be up in the trees.

He sighs and lets the wood be, leaving it in the clearing for later use.

The trees around him are abundantly large, sporting massive trunks and wide branches the average diameter of 3.35 meters. Long enough to house him for the night. Spotting one high in the canopy at about 10 meters, he cracks his neck, wincing at the tug of the fragment, and gets ready to unfurl his wings, eager to fly up after the exhaustion bled from his body.

He widens his stance with a grin, ready to feel the rush of air that comes from a single, powerful flap and perhaps the shocked shrieking of the nearby monkeys as he pulls them out, but he stops.

A scream releases itself from his throat, raw, powerful, and feeling like someone is ripping the delicate appendages apart from the inside, through delicate hollow bones and sensitive cartilage, and Senkū can barely breathe.

He drops to his knees as burning, blinding pain strikes his back muscles, shocking his nerves similar to a lightning strike. Shivers wrack his body, sweat drips down his face as another scream lodges itself in his throat. He tries to move his wings forward, desperately needing to see what is wrong with his wings for them to be in so much pain, but the action only forces a piercing shriek from him as he braces himself against the ground. He looks back, craning his neck as far back as it can go. He tries to open them again, only for them to stop at 13 inches and refuse to open any further.

Senkū’s face slowly shifts from pained confusion to horror, ruby red eyes dark swirling with fear, the emotion rippling through his body. His breathing elevates, his heart rockets in his rib cage.

“No… No, it can’t—this can’t be happening. This can’t, I can’t, no, no, no, no, no, NO…!”

He pushes off and races through the forest for the river he spotted over the cliff, panic and horrified shock feeding his adrenaline. He crashes through the canopy, yelping when his foot snags on a root that sends him crashing to the forest floor. He hastily gets up, uncaring of the scratches and welts that accumulate in the course of his mad dash to the waters, ignoring the panicking screeching of monkeys as they follow at a distance.

He grunts when he slips and slams into a tree, tears gathering in his eyes.

“I have to be dreaming. I have to be. I’m 10 billion percent sure this is all just a psychedelic trip from a spiked drink someone must’ve slipped in that can back at school. Laced with amphetamines, or LSDs, or even as far-fetched as ketamine. I might be dreaming this whole scenario! It isn’t real for wings to suddenly not function. It’s entirely illogical and improbable! I can’t lose my wings, _I can’t_!”

He breaks through the treeline feeling faint, and drops at the riverbank to hover over the crystal clear water rushing through the wood.

His image reflects his fatigue, the pained face sweating buckets, the shaking arms barely supporting themselves. And his wings, he quickly notes that they barely move, not even a twitch, and when he attempts to purposely twitch them a shock of pain travels through his being as he doubles over and bites back the urge to throw up what little remains of the last meal he’s had back in 2019.

Senkū’s lip wobbles as his body sinks to the gravel, fists clenching tight. He curls over, breath hitching as the first sob rips through his throat, back heaving as more follow and crystalline tears join the river underneath.

“Please… not this… _why this_ …?”

What has he done to deserve this? He never hurt anybody. He never hated anyone in his life. Never has he lashed out without purpose or desire to harm, only playing the neutral party with his words alone. Sure he never did have many friends to associate himself with but he was content with the way things were. He cared for his small group and he would defend them in any way he can. But...

There is no chance of survival here. He’s going to die in this wild land of the Stone Age without his wings.

His chest feels it’s sinking, as if a rock sits in the middle of his rib cage as his heart beats beneath. 

His wings are crippled.

He cannot fly.

Chances of survival drop dramatically to a millimeter.

Senkū chokes as more sobs escape his lips, ruby red eyes losing the shine they had upon awakening. Fingers rise to fist his delicate dual-colored locks and he shuts his eyes tight wishing for this nightmare to end, for him to be back in modern day Japan waiting for the next sky race to participate in or an upcoming storm to test his skills against, where Byakuya would then attempt to convince him to apply trackers in all his clothes and shoes just for peace of mind while Taiju waits at the door like some hired bodyguard.

But here, he has none of that. His eyes show him this as he reopens them to see the same river flowing freely, the same trees that grow unimpeded, and the calls of wildlife for miles all around. He’s all alone fending for himself. He has no combat skills to his name or even a weapon he’s proficient in using defensively. 

His image stares back at him swimming with grief. Tears stain his face, snot joining the streams, and his face twists to show the sheer loss he feels. It makes him cry harder. Makes him feel vulnerable.

Senkū whimpers as he removes his fingers from his hair to dig his fingernails in his shoulders, crying turning to wails as he hunches until his forehead kisses the gravel. A few of the monkeys nearby watch in solemn silence as the boy weeps.

Soon, his wails turn to screams. His screams echo for the world to hear as one boy is torn apart by agony and grief.

_His wings are crippled._

* * *

A strange, alarming sense of numbness takes root in his mind.

His condition leaves him sitting at the riverbank in a grieving daze, his throat raw and agitated after screaming for so long.

He doesn’t stay long, getting up and heading back without so much as a whimper, finding a large tree not far from his revival spot that is more than triple the size of other trees and collapsing against the bark. Careful not to jostle his wings he sits there and thinks, possibly the most he’s done even after depetrifying.

He needs tools. Weapons. If he can fashion himself a few spears and knives his chances of surviving will increase. Not by a large margin, but enough to give him an edge.

His heart feels as though thorny vines are gripping it tightly.

Ruby eyes flick across the landscape and settle on a cropping of rocks further up the hill, past the tree and a cave he hasn’t seen before. Dismissing the cave, he sighs and heads to the mound of rock to pick out a few varying in lengths between 3 to 8 inches and larger rocks to sharpen them.

Sitting down, he grimaces as he eyes the rocks. Sharpening them to a piercing point will take ages, if not days of trial and error, and he is no master crafter to flawlessly make them. He’ll have to learn on his own and he hopes he doesn’t chop any fingers off by accident.

Getting to work, Senkū lifts the rocks and thrusts it downward, flinching when the vibration travels to his back.

This may be 10 billion percent more annoying and problematic than he anticipated, but he has no choice.

The monkeys return and watch from the trees, hidden behind bushes. Senkū doesn’t spare them a glance, refusing to entertain them. He slams the stone and cries in dismay as the bigger rock breaks apart. He stares at it and then to the rock accusingly.

_I must be doing this wrong._

Perhaps grinding it would prove to be a better solution rather than smacking the damn things.

* * *

Several hours later finds himself tired, shaking, and in some level of pain, but he’s done it.

Ruby eyes stare at the few sharpened rocks he gathered, one already secured to a thick club with rope made from stringed vines to form an axe, sharp and reliable enough to cut through trees. He then fashions himself a set of stone knives and a few spears in case he ends up finding trouble. A few of them have chert tips, a strong rock that won’t break easily. It was hell to sharpen, too.

With the extra rope he twined together from the leftover vines, he moves to his next set of plans.

Fire.

The few days he spent in the wilderness, he felt a slight chill even within the abundance of foliage surrounding his chosen branch. A fire would scare away predators, or at the very least deter them from attacking him outright. A warning is far better than getting his throat slashed open out of nowhere, and with the inability to fly he’s practically a sitting duck.

“It’s almost 9PM. I need to start a fire soon.” Senkū eyes the remains of the stones he broke and grins. “Well, I can most definitely use those for the pit.”

Setting the pit doesn’t require a lot of science, just common sense. He then sets the wood and stick inside, and begins rolling the other stick using rope. He eyes the monkeys looking at him as if he’s an idiot for doing these things but it only makes him grin as smoke billows from the wood.

“You wanted a show? Let’s give you something special I call…”

In a roar of flames, the wood ignites and Senkū stands, triumphant as the warmth banishes the slight chill, scaring the monkeys so much one passes out while the other two run for the canopy, shrieking and screaming.

“Fire!”

Senkū watches them run and falls on the ground, chuckling at the reaction.

“Ah. Next is lumber, but it’s late. I should rest before I start going through hell and killing myself from exhaustion.”

Looking up at the stars, he loses the grin and frowns. 

_Byakuya. Taiju. Yuzuriha… I wonder how you guys are doing. Where you are right now. If you’re okay and safe somewhere. I believe you’re all okay, wherever you are. I’ll find you. You can be 10 billion percent sure about that._

_Just… wait for me. I’ll get there eventually. Then we’ll rebuild what we lost._

_Together._

* * *

He was right. His body is telling him to kill himself, drop dead head-over-heels and belly-up like roadkill.

Lumber he can easily chop down with a mighty swing of his stone axe, but attempting to hunt is a laughable matter at his own expense considering his stamina on land was the poorest score ever recorded in his school’s history books.

But deer are elusive and slippery, and Amami rabbits are more trouble than they are worth catching. His body just can’t cope with the ongoing stress of pulling timber to his campsite and then hunting for meat without his wings to lessen the burden. His legs are screaming at him for the exertion he’s placed on them today.

Well, traps and snares will have to do. The few he set up a few meters into the treeline will hopefully yield a hefty meal. And luck comes his way when a plump six-point buck becomes his very first victim. He skins the deer, purges the corpse of its organs and strips it of its meat, putting it over the fire.

It’s 10 billion percent the most heavenly thing he’s eaten in a long while. An idea takes shape as he rips the meat from the ribs in his palms. Plans to create a hut come to fruition.

The next day, he meticulously crafts the boards the hut will need, the few neat planks he carved lean against the big tree he decides to call home. Small hands shake as they push and pull the stone across the wood, shaving off the rough bark to give way to the cambium, then to the sapwood which he peels off for later use, and lastly reaching the heartwood where he chips the wood into sections and slowly carves out the boards he needs.

The slab of rock he pushes and pulls is enough to sand it down but it’s not perfect. Without proper sanding tools it won’t be as smooth as modern hardwood floors but at least it’s doable. Lacquer is also out of his reach for the time being, so the floor of his soon-to-be-made hut will seldom be baby-butt smooth; at least it won’t be poking through him with splinters and whatnot when sleep takes him, so he’s thankful for that.

Senkū spends hours carving out floorboards, all long enough to make a decent-sized floor plan that can house two and a half Taijus width-wise and the remaining half to support the walls and ceiling once he cuts down another large tree. He looks at the little diagram in the dirt and frowns, exhaustion creeping in his bones.

Sleep hasn’t been aplenty since he started plans for his hut after acquiring sharpened tools, lumber, and clay, tirelessly gathering supplies and materials to build shelter. The big tree is perfect but the manual labor is taking a heavy toll on him already. It’s hardly been a week. He can’t keep up for much longer when his arms shake like a newborn’s; and without his wings he’s at the mercy of the dangers lurking in this Stone World without anyone to save him.

Growling, Senkū takes the roll of rope, two wooden boards, his axe, and the basket of mushrooms he’d gathered after cutting the tree down to the massive cedar acting as the foundation. Setting the items down, he uses the pulleys to lift the boards onto the branch and then carefully climb it to set them in place. Without nails or any sort of adhesive available to him, he only has the option of locking the boards together like jigsaw puzzles and using clay as insulation.

Senkū chuckles despite the exhaustion ravaging his body.

“This’ll do. An age-old technique developed by the French without the use of nails or glue, and with support from a few extra boards the roof will be up and running. I’d only need something to cover my head and I’ll be set!”

Pride over his accomplishment blooms in his chest, red eyes glowing as ideas seed themselves in his mind. Sure, if he had another person to help him he’d be done long before today, but he’s the only one walking among the sea of statues and the feeling clogs his arteries something fierce.

The world sings its song as sunset looms over the world. Senkū’s determination speeds him through installing the roof and rejoices when it’s finally done, and though he could’ve waited until morning to finish it he finds himself feeling antsy, wary of his surroundings. The idea of leaving the leftover construction a moment longer would delay the process by a day and Senkū isn’t keen on waiting. Not even a thunderstorm forced him to wait and that never stopped him from flying in one either.

However, getting the walls and supports of his lab done would take a few more days. four, if he’s diligent and quick enough. With his pulleys it’ll be quicker, acting as a makeshift crane to hold up the boards without hurting himself.

Sighing, he looks down at his hands. They’re callused, dry, shaking violently, almost losing their grip on his axe. He sets the tool down and lies back on the porch of his hut, taking a deep breath as his wings touch the wood. Growling, he curls on his side and props his head to look at the stars slowly emerging from the swallowing darkness around them, their gloss swimming in the sky like a sea of glitter. His legs swing over the edge at a slow rhythm.

Tension bleeds out as his eyes soften, tracing the familiar constellations blinking into existence as the final vestiges of sunlight die out, bathing his world black. Quickly setting up a torch, he hides beneath it, wary of the muted dark around him. Inside, he has a sleeping bag made from the hide of another deer he caught the night before, waiting for him to use it. For now he gazes at the sky before he settles in for a possible restless night, careful not to put pressure on his wings as he curls.

He might not even need the hide bag for tonight. There is no faint chill in the air and the warmth of the sun still warms the boards.

He tries to sleep, to let his breathing even out, hoping he’ll enter REM sleep before dawn and that no nightmares grace his slumber with knives and fangs and blood smattering the walls as something eats away at his chest—

His wings shiver. Senkū’s eyes snap open in alarm.

A howl echoes from deep within the forest and Senkū sits ramrod straight, dread forming in the pit of his stomach as grass rustles beneath his hut, ferocious growling gathering by the dozens. Tense, Senkū gulps and slowly moves to crawl to the safety of his hut, but he tentatively looks over the edge to see what’s going on and immediately regrets it.

A growling of a hungry pack of giant wolves surround his hut, glowing yellow eyes spotting him with a flicker of hunger.

Senkū pales and his hands shake.

Timber wolves. But those are native to America, Asia, and most of northern Europe. How can there be wolves in Japan when the Japanese species died out in 1905?

Could these timber wolves have adapted to the area long ago and somehow grew twice their original size in just a few thousand years without being culled by human hands and feasting on an abundance of prey? He thinks as to where they might have come from and the only logical conclusion would be that some might have escaped from a zoo that wasn’t closed properly. If that’s the case, it’s understandable that they continue to live here, thriving as they are now.

He has no chance against a pack. They would pick off the flesh from his bones with just a snap of their jaws and he’ll drown in a sea of his own blood.

_No! Stop thinking that. If you think about it, it only gets worse. The nightmares will 10 billion percent come back and there would not be a millimeter of sleep to be had._

Yet, the rustling continues. Their impatience grows as they try to claw their way up the tree. It’s too steep for them to climb and their weight does them no favors, but Senkū can’t relax, masking his breathing enough that the animals hopefully won’t hear. His heart beats against his ribs and the instinct to fly away from the predators rouses his wings, the fear making them move. He hisses from the pain it brings and pales when the rustling stops, the clearing growing quiet before jaws snap at the edge of the floor boards with a resounding snap. Too close to where his left foot is.

Senkū reels back with a cry and shuffles away from the edge to crawl away from the porch, watching with trepidation as more jaws snap at the edge and catch on the wood, splintering the boards as their sharp teeth catch. Their eyes flash in the low light of the torch.

Spotting his sleeping bag, Senkū dives into it and curls in a tight ball, hoping the wolves will leave after such fruitless efforts in killing him. He grabs at his stone knife and holds it, bearing it towards the opening of the bag.

Tears gather in his eyes. He fights the urge to clasp his hands to his ears to drown out the growling.

_Please, go away._

* * *

Dawn greets his eyes once he snaps himself from a sleepless trance. He looks around warily, narrowing his eyes at the treeline around his hut for any sign of the wolves that tried to get to him the night before. He only sees the tracks they left behind, the grass disturbed around the base of the trunk. He swallows down bile as he recalls how close those jaws were to the edge of the boards, how powerful those snapping jaws sounded as they jumped at him. If they can’t climb up the tree he’s safe enough, but he’ll also have to be wary of the lions, too.

Sighing tiredly, he laments the loss of yet another sleepless night, aches and sores making way for another harrowing day full of building plans. It doesn’t rouse the same excitability he possessed earlier upon revival and he sincerely doubts it would return unless he’s had proper rest and time to process his close brush with death. There’s also the urgent need to make more weapons to defend himself, noodle-armed as he is. A stone axe, knife and spears by themselves aren’t sufficient as a weapon if he can’t use them well enough.

So, he adds the finishing touches to the hut, using rope to make a curtain to cover the doorway, creating baskets to gather edible fungi and plants, and curing the pelt he skinned from the deer to cut the leather into pieces, using the rope to essentially sew the parts together. Soon, he’s the proud owner of a high-collared leather garb with a leather belt holding a few pouches and bags. He has enough to produce arm bandages and shoes. Though, looking at the final product one would assume the garb looks more like a shaggy dress and the shoes like infantile shoe-wear, or _“booties”_ as Yuzuriha once told him.

The world around him spins a bit and he wipes the sweat from his forehead. Oh, how he wishes another person could help with the manual labor. He has been pushing himself almost nonstop to finish the hut, mostly out of fear and determination. He can feel his muscles locking up and his balance teetering.

“Shit, without giving myself time to rest my body can’t keep up. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

He props himself against a tree and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms. He doesn’t want to take any more time off from getting important things done, but with it being the end of the first week in April, he feels he isn’t making enough progress.

Closing his eyes and breathing in, he fights against the temptation for rest, calling for him like a sinful mistress. He sighs.

“Maybe later. Still need a bit more lumber, need more food. I should check the traps again before it gets too dark.” He looks up and groans. “And it might rain soon.”

Well, no time like the present. He’s almost done; then he can look for Taiju’s and Yuzuriha’s statues if they’re nearby.

It’s peaceful when he starts making his way over to his hut, cracking his neck and frowning at the fragment on it. He wonders if it has to stay on or it’ll crumble on its own in the future. He shrugs. Letting it be isn’t doing any harm, other than give him a crick in his neck.

He whistles softly as he gathers his tools to put away for later when he notices something off. A shiver runs through his wings, as painful as it is. His whistling tapers off as he strains his ears, body tensing.

It’s far too quiet. The crickets that usually chirp come evening are absent, the birds have stopped their calls, and the wind ceases. It’s unnervingly still and he has an inkling as to why when he spots something slinking through the brush just as lightning flickers and the boom of thunder roars in the heavens.

In that split second, a face emerges from the foliage. Savage, ferocious, hungry-eyed with tawny fur merging with a regal mane of dark-brown, yellow eyes glowing and pinned on him.

The rain hits him next, soaking his clothes and hair with cold water, and the next flash of lightning reveals the creature coming closer, a rumbling growl sending shivers up his spine.

A lone male lion has its sights on him and he’s the king’s next banquet.

Panic sweeps through his body and he drops his tools with a gasp. He takes off running for the hut as fast as his poor body can go, yelping when his wings shift on reflex to fly. The lion picks up on his pain and pushes off for a dash, unhindered as the soft earth beneath its paws turn to mud.

A loud yowl rumbles from the forest and Senkū looks back to see the enormous lion closing in, the ground quaking from the force of its weight. His eyes open wide in fear and he pushes himself harder, aiming for the rack of spears leaning against the tree.

Just as he is in reach of one his foot slips on the mud. He gasps and falls, grappling for purchase to keep running and reaches out again.

A shadow slowly looms above him, engulfing his form and drowning out the barely visible light from above. Just as he reaches for a spear a heavy weight crushes his lower half and teeth bury themselves deep into the calf of his left leg. Senkū screams, blindly reaching for the spear as the lion lets go of his leg to roar in his face.

Senkū meets the animal’s eyes and all he sees is his terrified face and the swirl of hunger melting with yellow, one last flash of lightning revealing the king of animals to be his last witness.

The lion bares its fangs and Senkū blacks out, noise drowning out and numbness setting in his bones.

_I feel warm… but it’s dark again._

_...Why does it hurt?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts on this chapter? Please let me know! :D
> 
> Chapter 3 will be released next week!


	3. Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The stars are what guide him; nature his audience. Yet even though life beyond the atmosphere would not bear witness to his struggles, he fights with every blood cell in his being to survive this new, alien world where humanity takes one step forward after losing thousands in turn._
> 
> _It's almost poetic, he thinks dazedly. How there's only one soul in a sea of stones, weathering tribulations ahead of sickness alone. He'd chuckle if it would spare him the pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you guys! Man, plotting out more changes to the storyline while writing this is an absolute blast.
> 
> Also, I'd like to address how sorry I am for missing Wednesday's deadline. The last two nights ended up with me passing out and then not getting a chance to finish the chapter until now due to work. Please accept my apologies!
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! 😀
> 
> A/N: 11/09/20 - Added page break lines to text.

_The sound of cold wind reaches his ears trailing faint whispers of voices long gone, caressing his long hair and kissing his cheeks as a mother does with her babe. His eyes are closed, arms spread and fingers feeling for the currents, the cushion of air that guides him when his body fails him and his wings cannot carry him further. The weightlessness brings him a comfort the land fails to conjure, a peace he craves when land life becomes overwhelming._

_The air should be rife with warmth, yet he feels chilled to the bone._

_“You see, Senkū? The wind is with you; one with your being. It takes you where you need to go even when you’re confused.”_

_A smile loosely knits itself together on his face, his feathers shivering with delight as he soars higher than ever before._

_“Let yourself loose—feel yourself break free of restraint when you ride the currents. They’ll guide you to where you’ll need to go so long as you trust them.”_

_“Can you ride them too, Pops?”_

_A chuckle rings throughout the skies as a shadow hovers above his smaller frame, smoky-gray wings fluttering at the edge of his vision with cloudy trails from the fog, a phantasm streaking above._

_“Of course, I can! Your old man can do more than barrel rolls and corkscrew dives!”_

_Excitement runs deep in his veins as the wind shifts in tandem with their beating hearts and his eyes open to meet the skies. A large hand grips his own smaller one, a reassuring squeeze as the soar, higher and higher until they breach the cloud barrier, their wings carrying them high where even the clouds barely kiss their toes. The sun warms them, warding off the chill that threatens to gather on his body. Byakuya shifts, spreading his wings wide as if to greet the world and simultaneously present it to Senkū._

_Senkū’s eyes widen at the sheer marvel his eyes see. The view is gorgeous, clouds obscuring the world beneath to make way for a golden cloudy corridor, not a shadow present to mar the spectacle. The sun awaits them ahead with its brilliance paving the way with glistening gold and Senkū feels as if he’s becoming one with the skies._

_Byakuya approaches from behind, a hand reaching for him with a grin._

_“Let’s go to the stars, Senkū. There’s so much more to see.”_

_Grinning, he flutters closer feeling lighter than air. He looks at Byakuya and smiles at him, ruby eyes shining bright with love and joy. He gently reaches out to take the man’s hand and when he grasps it, the hands abruptly turn to claws and dig into the fragile skin of his own as soon as one fingertip brushes the skin of the man’s palm. Byakuya’s warm face abruptly dissolves into dust, his eyes hollowing out and replaced with glowing yellow irises and a deep, jagged maw with rows of bloodied fangs and fur growing from his face._

_Senkū stares into Not-Byakuya with horror, hand flinching back when the broken, bloody, jagged maw flaps in an attempt to snap its teeth at him. He beats his wings to get away when lightning blocks his way, only a few meters away and shocking him with the small feelers it leaves behind. His wings lock up, his body stiffens, and a painful hot haze sweeps through his system as he screams when he begins losing altitude._

_Not-Byakuya lets out a rumbling growl, thunder erupting around them as the sun surrenders to the darkness, its brilliance seeping away as the cold returns with a vengeance and frost gathers on his body._

_“Do not kiss goodbye to what no longer walks.”_

_Senkū struggles to fly, tears in his eyes as he screams to the heavens. His wings are limp, they refuse to move, not the slightest twitch even as the clouds are breached and the land below gravitates closer to him. He closes his eyes and impacts to ground, pain rippling through his body. He whimpers and opens his eyes, recoiling when he’s face to face with a massive lion lying across from him._

_Faded yellow eyes bore into his own, no trace of life left in those marbled orbs._

* * *

Pain and fear shake his core as awareness claws itself out of its ditch. From the mute silence that encompasses his senses to the gradual climb of hypersensitivity, the sounds of chirping and the rustle of grass comes slowly at first, fuzzy and muffled. Feeling comes forth, just as slow and equally as torturous when pain blooms and spreads like a fungus across his body. The overwhelming heat accompanying it reaches a high peak, ravaging his senses.

A strained sound that could pass off as a dying cow reaches his ears. Is there a cow nearby? Do they still exist in this time? He isn't sure.

Wait, no, that's him imitating a dying cow. He can feel the vibrations in his throat every time that groan comes around.

His hand twitches, chest expanding from the inflation of his lungs taking in precious oxygen. His brain jumpstarts and his eyes snap open, ignoring the way the bright sun above nearly blinds him with its radiance.

And comes face to face with a giant feline’s fangs mere inches from his face, putrid air rushing through the pink nose. He almost gags when it washes over his face.

Why is this thing on him?

Ruby eyes constrict with shock as memories of the previous night's events come to the forefront and that spurs him to fight against the heavy weight pinning him down to the ground, whimpering when pain nearly stops him.

He struggles as the weight slowly moves to the side, arms shaking when the little energy he has drains quickly. Slumping, he takes large breaths before resuming. His back flares with pain, his wings shivering and curling from the pain of both the desperate movements and the pressure from the lion’s weight. He pushes himself, choking on his groans and whimpers when the massive thing’s head finally moves enough for him to wiggle himself out, crying out when his leg brushes against its forearm.

Smacking the lion’s paw away and dragging himself to the rack of spears that fell in his struggles, he blanches when he sees the bite wound in his calf, dry and fresh blood painting the skin around the area, the flesh around it paler than it should be.

“Damn it,” he curses, eyes narrowing as he prods the skin around the wound. He hisses and twitches as he prods around the gastrocnemius muscle, then to the front where the teeth dug deep into the skin to graze the tibia. Both areas are red, swollen, tender to the touch and Senkū swears that it’ll be his crap luck damning his soul if he gets infected with Pasteurella Multocida in the coming days.

He stares at the damage and slowly resigns himself to the fact that luck isn't his best quality in this world and improvement would be a pipe dream at best. At worst, it’s receiving every punishment imaginable in a pachinko game without protective gear.

But that’s the least of his worries.

The lion bit down on an important part, but not the most delicate and necessary parts. If it were his knee or his Achilles tendon he'd have trouble walking for the entirety of his life. Biting into the gastrocnemius would prove difficult with flexing his toes and allowing him to bend his knee and it makes it harder to move forward, but with it damaged walking will be difficult for a few weeks, if not months, and without the injury he’s already struggled with so much in just a week. How will he fare with a leg wound and making sure he survives the next few months alone?

Senkū closes his eyes and slumps on the grass, breathing harshly through his nose.

His situation is just getting worse and it's _only been a week_ —he’s justified to feel the way he does, sue him.

Looking back at the lion, Senkū shivers from the remnants of his dream, the images haunting his conscious thought even after waking. His wings ache just thinking about the fall and the impact he went through in the dream.

The massive creature lies near motionless in the grass, it's wide maw twitching, blood painting it's teeth and muzzle, but it's eyes remain open, slightly unfocused and gazing at him with a far-off expression. Its tongue lolls to the side and its whiskers faintly twitch from the gentle breeze.

It’s still alive but not for very long. Senkū can see as such from the way its glazing eyes lose more of the bright yellow color, how it tries to move its jaw and paws to presumably stand and walk away to heal with its pride.

But Senkū knows better. Its life is slowly draining away despite the creature’s best efforts in fighting off the inevitable.

Looking down, blood soaks into the green underneath it and around him both.

Confusion spirals in his mind. Why is there so much blood? The only wound he's received is from the bite wound in his leg, now spilling just a trickle of the fluid to feed the soil. His eyes stare at the animal before lowering to his clothes and flinches when a deep, set-in stain of dark brown and faint red clings to the leather. It’s crusted over with a terrible scent, seeping deep into the stitching and turning it black. His arms and thighs also bear the stains, flaking off when his skin pulls and relaxes.

Gritting his teeth, Senkū slowly maneuvers his body to all fours so he can stand. Using the tree as a crutch he approaches the dying lion, hesitant and unsure. He questions whether what he is about to do is a good idea at all. His wings twitch and he shuffles closer with teeth digging into his lip, his breath freezing in his chest when he’s close enough to see his dagger embedded deep into the lion’s chest cavity, blood gushing from the entry wound.

The lion itself is mere moments away from letting go. It breathes heavily, a sickeningly audible gurgle sloshes in its lungs with each exhale. It alerts him to the fact the lion has internal bleeding—a damaged lung or stomach, he thinks, that could be the final nail to the coffin.

What twists his gut is the way the lion looks resigned to its fate, its glossy eyes sluggishly tracking his every move as he creeps closer.

Senkū grimaces, eyes stinging as he lowers himself near the animal’s crown, a shaking hand placing itself on its brow with gentle fingers.

The lion rumbles a gurgling moan at him and Senkū can’t find it in him to flinch or scowl at it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to it. Caressing the soft fur of its forehead, Senkū smooths over its mane and limp ears in an attempt to soothe its pain knowing it won’t help it physically. “I’m sorry I did this,” his voice cracks.

He shouldn’t cry for a predator that intended to kill him for a quick meal. Should be angry or petty, or maybe even vengeful enough to kill it in cold blood, but this lion was only following instincts. Sure, he’d probably have a harder time calming down and not jump at every noise and movement around his camp for an uncertain length of time in the future, but here, right next to a majestic beast desperately clinging to life, Senkū doesn’t have a single bone in his body that despises or resents the animal.

He feels remorse, and perhaps a good percentage identifying itself as grief. Because for all his aloofness and blunt, snarky remarks he’s never thought of the possibility he’d take another life in such a horrible manner. Deer do not count as he mercifully ends their lives quickly and painless, giving them a moment to thank them for providing for him.

_“I’m sorry.”_

The lion takes one last shuddering gasp, its eyes never leaving his own as the light fades away. Its tongue ceases to move, its whiskers still, and the muscles go limp.

There's no sign of life remaining.

Smoothing a hand over the rough pelt, he fights back the urge to flinch away and regurgitate what little he has left churning in his stomach.

The animal is gone, 

* * *

Well past late afternoon, Senkū stares at the fire as meat cooks on sticks over the flames. In his hands, his fingers fidget with the pelt he’d skinned from the lion, the fur free of blood. His own clothes still have blood staining the front and he makes plans to trap more deer to make another one if he can’t completely rid the material of the stain. Thankfully, the rest of the blood dried and flaked away after a minute of rubbing his hands over his limbs. He can’t say the same for the blood congealed in the grass, the spot where the lion once passed on but a day of rain should hopefully drain it into the soil.

Senkū thanks the lion for its bounty but a pit digs in his chest as he skinned and cut away at its body. The skeleton that was left over was buried beneath his tree, a stone in the rough shape of a gravestone sitting over it. The surface bears no name and Senkū hopes it won’t haunt him.

In this world, he has no choice but to make use of any resources at his disposal. Refusal to exploit them in his state is foolish if he intends to brave the winter in meager deerskin pelts and hide bags. If he had plenty of furs at his disposal he’d make a nest, but luxuries like those are far from his reach as of right now. A sleeping bag is his only option, even if it isn’t the best.

Sighing, he reaches back to check his wings, wincing when his fingers ghost over the delicate appendages. They ache fiercely after a prolonged amount of time getting squashed by the lion. His leg, on the other hand, is a little swollen and red but he feels relief when fever or any other strange symptom hasn’t emerged during the night. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and he has a bit of a cough though, so he might have a cold. It was raining when he was attacked so it’s not too far fetched if he _somehow_ got himself sick.

The fire crackles when Senkū takes a stick, biting into the meat slowly and absently. The boy barely notices the flavor as he chews. Getting up, he warily takes in his surroundings before slowly attempting to take a step. Pain flares up as he puts weight on his leg.

“Damn it,” he curses, sitting down to pick up a long branch he’d found earlier he props himself up and uses it as a makeshift crutch. It’ll have to do until his leg heals.

Around the treeline torches light up the perimeter to deter further attacks and illuminate possible threats to give him a head start in escaping. The big fire near the hut might be overkill but he won’t leave possibilities to happen while he can stop them. One lion attack is enough for a lifetime.

Stumbling around, he focuses on his surroundings, listening intently for any noise that would tip him off to another animal. If another shows up he’ll die and that would prove disastrous to his plans in reviving humanity. He scans his surroundings a little longer before he heads back up to his hut at a faster pace, leaving the bonfire and snagging the rest of the meat before struggling up the ladder with his eyes watching his back. It’s getting darker and spending another hour in the open sends a shiver up his spine.

* * *

When morning breaches the darkness, Senkū groans as he cracks his back and neck on his way to the spot where he broke free of his petrified state. His leg feels marginally better than it did yesterday but each step feels like knives are piercing the fragile flesh while his wings feel stiff and sore. The mystery behind the petrification still weighs heavy in his mind and a closer look without the threat of animals nearby gives him the motivation to leave the safety of his hut to put two and two together. Of course, with an injured leg he’ll be limping around at a slower pace and it’s frustrating when he feels he’s slowing his progress even further when he inevitably trips and falls with a rather undignified yelp.

“Oh, this is 10 billion percent inconvenient,” he groans, looking up at the sky. He carefully gets back up and looks down at the cause of his trip and stares at a stone hand peeking from the ground.

He stares at it for a long time, enough that he can relate to a confused Labrador puppy when someone smacks their lips together to make kissy noises.

_Taiju leaps before a fearful Yuzuriha with his arms and wings spread and facing the beam of light with fierce determination to protect the girl._

_His wings are the shield and his hands, fingers slightly bent, a stopping force, screaming as his flesh turns to stone with eyes burning bright._

Senkū’s eyes snap open wide.

“Taiju…” he whispers, almost too soft in the wind.

His eyes water as he hastily hobbles his way back to camp to grab the shovel and return with sweat beading his face, a desperate longing forming a pit in his chest.

He settles the shovel into the soil and begins to dig, careful not to hit Taiju as the earth opens beneath him. Beads of sweat form and trail down his temples with every heave, exposing more of Taiju’s statue. With his fingers he brushes away the dirt that sits in the statue’s mouth, eyes, and ears, feeling discomfort that the boy would have to pick that out after he breaks out of his stone shell.

Leaning back, he gazes at Taiju’s face for the first time in a while, set in stubborn determination to protect Yuzuriha from the Green Light, eyes blazing even when frozen in stone. Just gazing at him like this makes him want to cry but he’d feel silly for wanting such a thing. Once Taiju’s abdomen is uncovered Senkū sits down to breathe, leg throbbing from standing so long and arms shaking from digging.

Staring at Taiju for what seems like ages, Senkū pokes him. The silence around him is deafening.

Then he pokes him again.

And again.

Until he feels like letting out a hysterical fit of laughter and a sob at the same time since his acceptance of this new world’s reality, isolation eating away at him when normally he’d love to be left alone to craft some new invention or experiment with rare compounds only famous scientists could get their hands on. Yet here, in the new age of stone, death in many forms is a threat now and he’s the only one alive walking with nature surrounded by petrified humans at almost every turn.

He debates whether he should worry for his sanity if he admits poking a petrified Taiju to be morbidly amusing.

“Even though I’ve seen that ugly mug of yours 10 billion times before, it’s been a while, huh?” He chuckles as he weaves his fingers through his tall locks. “More like 3,719 years to be exact. Once you wake up we can find Yuzuriha and plan our route to humanity’s revival together. After I manage to build the lab.”

The statue doesn’t respond to him. How can it? It’s a teenage boy turned to stone and unless he’s been awake every second since the Green Light hit his consciousness is possibly suppressed.

Frantically digging the rest of the boy out of the ground, he pretends he isn’t digging out a very-much naked teenager and averts his eyes as he brushes away worms and dirt from crevasses and places-that-shall-not-be-named for Taiju’s sake, not that he’d remember any of this if his conscious thought is in a sleep-like state.

Then he sits and thinks more on the phenomenon that enveloped the earth. Why were only sparrows and humans affected by this beam? Is this an unknown branch of science miles ahead of modern human technology only targeting specific organisms? If it trapped every single human individual on earth then how did he get out of his petrified state?

“I pushed myself to break out every spring. Was the shell deteriorating as time passed,” he asks himself aloud. It doesn’t seem very plausible, concerning the fact that the statues have shown a considerable amount of wear over the course of nearly four millennia and nothing organic has been exposed. “No, it doesn’t make much sense since the exterior surface would have broken down first rather than break apart like a second skin. Many of the statues I examined either are whole or missing pieces, usually an arm or leg. Some are so broken there isn’t a chance to put them all together again but the inside bears no flesh, just stone all the way through. So why am I the only one that broke out with living cells from a fragile shell of stone? Did I turn back into flesh through some convoluted process?”

Questions. So many hideously frustrating questions. Senkū feels like pulling his hair as they pile up in a mess in his head.

But the excitement bubbling in his heart of this new unexplored branch of scientific advancement is enough to pull him out of it, spur him to get up and limp back to the hole he dug where the carefully nestled petrification fragments that fell from his body reside.

Didn’t those fragments start from his head, specifically around his eyes? It’s the only supporting theory he has where an outside factor influenced the breakdown, but there’s a missing piece that doesn’t quite fit in yet. What that is, he doesn’t know.

Settling on his legs and cradling an arm around his middle, the other reaches up to prop his chin. He looks forlornly at Taiju and sighs, dropping his arm and tucking his chin to his chest.

The desire to have Taiju at his side grows the longer Senkū stares at him and he has to chastise that little voice niggling at him from the recesses of his mind to quiet down so he can think without his emotions going out of whack. It’s 10 billion percent more distracting than foraging for rare mushrooms.

A small weight settles on his shoulder and Senkū blinks when he finds a small bat looking back at him, squeaking and chirping before taking off into the trees above. Confusion takes the place of bewilderment.

“Bats?”

Another flies by and Senkū tracks its movements back to a cave uphill. He must’ve missed it in the last few days since he was preoccupied in getting his camp started and he wants to hit himself for it.

Giving Taiju another longing stare, he grimaces as he gently stands up to limp his way up the hill to investigate.

* * *

Entering the cave, Senkū at first feels apprehension. He hasn’t a clue as to what might await him further inside the dim, murky depths of the cave and he’s sure on any other given day he’d be ignoring it without a doubt. But he forces himself to enter, forcing himself to remain calm and take in his surroundings. The further he goes he hears it. The repetitive drop of liquid ahead, accompanied by a putrid odor assaulting his nose. He pinches his nose, squinting as he ventures further, mindful of his leg.

No predators linger in the shadows, nothing scurries past him on the rocky floor. Above though, bats sleep on the cave’s ceiling, and a mound underneath them forms a pile of feces. Guano, he corrects himself.

Then it clicks.

“This is nitric acid!”

Exhilaration fills his chest as he puts the puzzle together. If this is what he thinks it may be, he has to experiment. Has to test out the theory forming in his mind.

_The back of my head is still petrified. If I forcefully rip a piece stuck in my hair and douse it with the acid, perhaps something will happen._

Ripping part of his petrified hair, he holds it underneath the dripping liquid and waits a few seconds. In three seconds, the rock cracks apart.

Joy is the primary emotion that nestles deep in his chest as he stares at the success that changes everything.

* * *

Making clay pots is a hassle even before he started building plans for his camp.

They’re shoddy, amateur embarrassments that could give potters an aneurysm and Senkū can’t dredge up the feeling of inadequacy when pottery isn’t his forte. They’re lopsided for sure, and their balance isn’t impressive on their own but he finds that they can still hold liquid, and water is a precious resource he can’t afford to gather every single day. That just adds more threats to his life than he needs.

So when he gathers enough nitric acid he decides to use it on Taiju, wincing as his wings twitch and creak from his excitement. But when he pours it on the statue nothing happens. No cracks form and Taiju remains stone cold. He frowns, excitement dimming to confusion.

Senkū makes a face most people would consider Yakuza-material, but then that’s just how his twisted sense of humor works. Taiju would appreciate it.

Waiting a little longer and frowning when nothing happens, he wonders if he’s missing something, or does pouring nitric acid speed up the process of de-petrification?

So many questions. So many frustrations build up.

He spends a few days setting up his laboratory with reinforced ceiling bristles and shelves from the smaller branches he couldn’t use for the walls. His clay pots populate the space within and the few sparrow statues he found while foraging for mushrooms take their place on the shelves. A round cut of a tree’s trunk was brought in the first day he completed his lab and he uses that as a makeshift table.

By the fourth day, Senkū has several pots full of nitric acid at his disposal and a deerskin robe specifically tailored to Taiju’s body size hanging from a rack. Getting the measurements were easy once he covered the teen’s crotch.

Senkū growls as he crafts more pots, sweating as he hobbles from hut to cave and back on his injured leg. He spots one of the petrified sparrows he keeps in the safety of his hut and brings it out, pouring the acid on it and waiting. Nothing happens.

Pouring the acid on the sparrows proved to be useless. Drenching human statues with the stuff also prove fruitless no matter how much he pours or how long he waits. No cracks or fragmenting stone pieces greet him. It’s only when he’s working himself up to a migraine when he realizes why he’s set apart from anyone else in their petrified states.

He was thinking the entire time he was trapped, so it’s only logical that the calories he was burning from all the brain activity might have something to do with de-petrifying. The human brain consumes 400 kilocalories every day. Calculating the amount of kilocalories times the days he’s been awake throughout his imprisonment equates to 2 terajoules. But the energy required for that has to come from somewhere. It’s a basic rule, E=mc2. Energy equals mass relative to the speed of light, a principle foundation of science founded by Albert Einstein, a man Senkū admires greatly.

The next piece of the puzzle is in place. Now he has to make more theories as to where the energy for all that thinking came from. It may have been from consuming the stone to keep functioning but how and why? Thinking back to the breakdowns that threatened to consume his consciousness he assumes the wide majority of humanity simply lost against it and now lie dormant in their statuesque states, possibly in a state similar to a deep sleep.

The next few days are filled with experiments, hypotheses, and healing. His leg steadily gets better even if the bone-deep puncture wounds still throb like a vice clamping down. The sparrows also grow in number as more and more of their petrified selves are found around the perimeter of his hut down to the river. He grinds them down, bathes them in flames, and tried pouring more nitric acid in the hopes they’d break free. They never did.

Oh, if only he could get his hands on some industrial-strength etching solution, he’d be set. Nital, perhaps, might work instead of raw nitric acid and to his misfortune he’ll require alcohol.

Nothing around his camp is capable of producing wine, let alone alcohol. He groans and palms his face. He’s tired and with only two-and-a-half weeks under his belt he feels like his limbs want to fall off. Every day he collects more sparrow statues, using anything he has to help free them and put an end to a curse that drove humanity’s progress to the ground. Nothing works and it frustrates him as he works himself to the bone, ignoring the painful throbbing of his leg and the twitches of his wings expressing his frustrations. He’s so frustrated that by the fourth week he mutilates his thumb just to write Einstein's equation of special relativity on the left breast of his deerskin, wanting to remember the foundations that make science what it is. An absolute rule.

The moment is then ruined when his stomach makes a _gweee_ noise and he lightly flushes, feeling silly about the intensity of his inner declaration.

Now comes his newest dilemma: how is he dragging Taiju to the cave all by himself? The sparrows can wait a little longer but he’s afraid of leaving Taiju’s unprotected statue in the middle of the clearing where anything can break him apart at any given moment. Making a split second decision, he hauls out of the hut and promptly gets drenched. His hair sags in his face and he feels the first twinges of an ache gripping his wings. His leg protests the sudden move and even more when he climbs down the ladder, speeding off to grab Taiju as the rain intensifies.

He breathes harshly as he comes to a stop at the pit, climbing in and grabbing Taiju’s arms. His face heats up as he struggles to maneuver the statue so that he can push it up the small incline.

Senkū groans and growls as he pushes against the statue, willing it to obey and shift upwards. His noodle arms shake as he applies more force, wanting to get out of the rain before his cold gets even worse.

An hour later he’s dragging Taiju’s heavy statue to the cave, choking on a scream as the weight presses on his wings and his leg feels like it’s giving up on him.

“I-It’s the only way. I can’t drag you with just my arms, I’d break them with your weight you big oaf,” he tries to snicker but it comes out as a whimpering gurgle.

If only he had another person to help him he wouldn’t need to hurt himself, however he’s the only one free.

He tries not to make the thought haunt him as he sets Taiju underneath the dripping guano, urging the teen to wake up as he breathes, body shaking from exertion.

The time he spends with the statue is full of begging, pleas for him to wake up, and when Senkū leaves the cave, it’s feeling like another loss is being tossed his way.

Weeks pass by as Senkū diligently continues his experiments, collecting more sparrow statues he comes across and amassing a large collection in his lab. The monkeys visit him on the sixth week since de-petrification to drop off fruit and plants, some of which he’s surprised to discover are safe and contain healing properties which he applies to his leg, the flesh scabbed over and slowly knitting back together.

He finds it partially unnerving that they sit and watch him investigate their offerings before scampering off once he returns to his hut.

During June, the approaching 95° weather alleviates the aches in his wings and brings with it opportunity in the form of breeding season, and he’s able to harvest a vast amount of eggs to add to his diet as he forages for herbs and fungi. The extra protein they contain is beneficial for his health. He's also begun to notice small changes in his muscle mass from working on so many labor-intensive projects but the trade-off is an almost constant burning in his limbs and the fatigue that makes passing out all the easier.

His leg heals at a steady pace with Senkū carefully tending to the bite wound and regularly changing the bandages until the scabs start disappearing.

A scar takes the scab’s place by late July, but the muscles don’t completely mend until August. By then, he’s prepared weapons and remedies, has a large store of long-lasting food and mushrooms to help him through the fall and enough deerskin leathers to form a nest complete with the feathers he’s molted simply from the stress of the last few months put together. He put some aside to add to a spare leather coat with fur trimming to stay warm when the snow hits. The same with Taiju, once the idiot wakes up.

On September 12th, he finds he has nothing to occupy his mind, ignoring how the seconds continue to add up at the back of his mind like an ancient mantra. He finds himself in a clearing a small distance from his camp where the trees leave a few acres of open land. The sky is wide open with a few bare clouds, the sun shining brightly even as wind picks up. Senkū takes in a breath of fresh air and closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for a very illogical decision that can end up poorly.

He crouches, brows pinching tightly as he breathes out. His nerves high and hands shaking. This part is hard, and he dreads the incoming onslaught that would no doubt render him helpless, but the itch he has for the sky is too much, too urgent, enough to drive him insane from the months of being denied his place among the clouds. It hurts, his heart hurts. He wants to so desperately fly again yet he can’t even lift off even a foot off the damn ground.

It’s 10 billion percent more agony and loss than frustration. So he stands in this clearing ignoring the chirping of birds and the squeaking of squirrels.

He tenses his muscles and shuts his eyes tight, clenching his fists and jaws as he counts down from 5 seconds down to 1, and as a hawk flies overhead with a piercing shriek he snaps his ruby eyes open and forces his wings to open.

Quicker than he’s prepared for, pain like no other rips through his back muscles and the tender ligaments of his wings, vision blurring to bright white as the feeling of searing hot knives stab mercilessly at his nerves. He doesn’t even get the chance to scream, the sound lodged painfully in his throat, gurgling as his vision darkens and his body drops like a puppet cut loose of its strings.

His wings only managed to open at 4 inches.

When he wakes, it's evening with a waxing crescent moon above, giving little light around the world. He lets the tears run down his cheeks, a hopeless agony sweeping through his body as his wings shiver from the aftershock of his flying attempt. The pain was excruciating, too much for him to handle; now he lies curled on his side gazing at the moon with pleading eyes. He resigns himself, there isn’t anything he can do to fix his wings.

So he gets up, gasping from exhaustion and pain, limping his way back to camp before it truly becomes dark. 

The stars are what guide him; nature his audience. Yet even though life beyond the atmosphere would not bear witness to his struggles, he fights with every blood cell in his being to survive this new, alien world where humanity takes one step forward after losing thousands in turn.

It's almost poetic, he thinks dazedly. How there's only one soul in a sea of stones, weathering tribulations ahead of sickness alone. He'd chuckle if it would spare him the pain.

Tucking himself away in the safe seclusion of his hut, Senkū curls in his nest under the warm lion pelt as tears continue running down his face, skin jumping with every step and snapping of branches in the distance.

_You better wake up, you big oaf. Yuzuriha is out there waiting for your loud ass to save her._

_And I guess I miss you, too. As illogical as that may seem..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taiju's been found and now it's only a waiting game for him to wake up! What'll happen next with our favorite scientist? Let me know what you think!
> 
> Sneak peek for next time:
> 
> _"Senkū, you've never been the kind of person to look like that—not even after Hitoshi ripped some of your feathers out in middle school."_
> 
> _Senkū chuckles, the sound singing such an undertone of grief and loss that Taiju feels he's failed somehow; and looking at the shorter boy across from him under the dim light of the torch outside, curling into himself so tightly, he can see all of it, the tragedy clinging to his face like ink blots staining a once-flawless canvas._
> 
> _"Senkū," Taiju whispers, dreadful fear burrowing deep in his heart. "What happened while I was gone?"_
> 
> _Senkū opens his mouth, words failing him only for his hand to cover it, and his shoulders shudder before a heart-wrenching sob shakes through his thin frame._


	4. The Second Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He could be hallucinating. Might’ve been the arikko he consumed to relieve him of a stomach bug he had last night._
> 
> _Parting a few leaves, his eyes study the blob much more closely._
> 
> _Two-legged, two armed, shiny hairless skin, ripped physique, head of brown hair, spiked eyebrows, earnest brown eyes widening at the sight of him emerging from the leaves._
> 
> _“Senkū?”_
> 
> A/N: 10/17/20 - Corrected some mistakes found in text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back for Chapter 4! I hope you'll like this chapter as I had quite a bit of fun with it. It took much longer to write because it's about double the usual length and I wanted to get this bit outta the way, but between power outages, a busted internet box, and a strange case of over exhaustion, writing this chapter took a while. Again, sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy!

When Taiju wakes to the sound of cracking and the darkness of a cave he finds himself suitably puzzled.

The last thing he remembers before a green light appeared is his bullheaded self trying to protect Yuzuriha back in their school’s courtyard beside the camphor tree, thoughts of his love for her and his worry for Senkū drifting in and out of consciousness as an eternal black swallowed him whole. The feeling of floating and an aching numbness was an unnerving experience once he got a grasp on his situation. It felt weird, but in a detached sort of way. Sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell were oddly absent and his body was off-puttingly numb. It almost made him panic when an unseen force sucked his consciousness into murky depths and he had to fight through it just to stay awake, and in between flashes of conscious thoughts and his determination to find both Yuzuriha and Senkū he often droned in a slumber-like state.

It was mentally taxing even fighting to stay awake for a few hours every once in a while since the first time.

He wonders how much time has passed since that green light descended upon them. Has it been days? Weeks? Months, even? He isn’t sure. He’s not the best at keeping track of time on his own without the aid of his phone—or Senkū, now that he thinks about it.

Chirping accompanies the cracking of what sounds like pottery breaking, reveling in the sheer sudden introduction of tactile sensations running through his shivering body as his mouth takes a deep, aching breath once the thing holding it closed falls apart with a clatter.

His throat hitches and he chokes on his first breath of oxygen, sensation creeping back to his face as his jaw clenches, a choked groan filling the cave as his lungs painfully readjust to breathing again. But it burns, like someone blew hot ashes down his windpipe to consume healthy tissue.

What a strange and extremely uncomfortable feeling.

His one eye glances underneath to find stone fragments littering the ground.

_Strange. Pieces of rock? Falling off of me? Wait, why am I lying down? I was standing up in front of Yuzuriha in the courtyard before it all went black!_

Gritting his teeth, Taiju clenches his arms as he struggles to sit up, fighting against the stone attached to his body, sweat pouring down his face from the effort alone. It feels as if concrete was poured over him. He grits his teeth and yanks his arms back with a yell, heaving his spine with a flare of his wings to break off more stone fragments as he sits up, feeling like he’s been reborn anew.

“Yes! I’m free! But, uh—where am I?”

Taiju takes in the dim cavern, nose curling at the rank odor. Beyond the mouth of the cave is a bright scene that hurts his eyes. Looking around the cot of grass he realizes there are signs of someone else’s presence frequenting the cavern floor with a row of uneven clay pots lining up at the walls filled with a strange olive-yellow liquid, stone spears (hold the phone, what?) are neatly stacked against the wall nearest the entrance, and what looks to be a few molted feathers hiding among the debris.

He gulps, wings lightly fluffing up from nervousness.

This looks entirely out of place. It’s something right out of a prehistoric caveman movie with the straw bedding and stone tools strewn about. The thought itself is worrying enough he wonders if he’s been kidnapped by criminals for ransom.

And he’s naked.

He yelps, hiding his crotch with a quick snap of his wings. Brown eyes dart from wall to wall hoping no one was around to see him in all his glory. It would be horribly embarrassing and inappropriate if he flashes someone by accident. That one time where he blew himself up in Senkū’s apartment when they were 8 and 10 was possibly the first and last time he ever did such a thing and he knows Senkū never really forgave him for that, as flustered as the smaller boy was.

He waits for a while, calling out to see if a person is nearby. When he receives nothing but silence he shrugs and stands, wings covering him like a cloak as he makes his way to the entrance with a wince. It’s blindingly bright as he emerges, fresh air tickling exposed skin.

Green explodes in his vision to form an abundant forest with trees stretching into the sky, trees that are wider and taller than the ones that grow around the city, confusion furrowing his brows as he fumbles to take in what could be a forest in the middle of nowhere and not a soul to greet him.

The silence makes his skin crawl but he pushes it away in favor of figuring out where the heck he is.

“What is this,” Taiju whispers, lost as he steps out into the warmth of the sun’s rays. Squirrels and birds gather on trees and the occasional deer prances away in the distance, no sign of roads, buildings, or people; it’s just a quiet landscape with the chittering of critters and wind rustling the leaves. “Where am I? This doesn’t look like the school.”

He doesn’t recognize anything looking remotely similar to the courtyard or the camphor tree he and Yuzuriha stood next to. Behind him is the cavern with a dead end; before him is a sprawling forest, full of _green_ and the clear expanse of sky above. Massive cliffs rise from a ravine to his right, and among nature stand the most bizarre things he never thought his eyes would ever lie on as he continues walking forward.

Statues; so many statues of people holding their arms up to defend themselves from an unseen force, faces frozen in fear and confusion. People of all ages. Some are stuck in the cliffs, absorbed into the dirt and rock while others have creeping moss and vines growing on the surface of their bodies. One statue of a child is missing both arms, half his face gone while one wing lies on the ground behind him. What he assumes to be the child’s mother is missing her head and an arm, deep cracks running up the length of her left leg.

It’s a sight eerily similar to a scene from that one post-apocalyptic horror movie he and Senkū watched out of boredom once, where the end of humanity is a central theme.

Though, the embarrassing detail he notices is that each of the petrified statues are stark naked and only a few have some sort of vegetation sparing a scant few their dignity. He redirects his eyes to the ground with a flushed face, frowning when he finds a fragment of a petrified eye and cheekbone in the dirt.

“This is unreal. Is this a dream?” Taiju looks to the sky, carefully waddling around the field of petrified humans, careful to not nudge or damage them further than they have been over the course of who-knows-how-long. He spots many missing arms or legs, some even losing either pieces of their wings or the entirety of the plumed appendages. His own feathers fluff and shiver at the uncomfortable thought of losing his own wings like that.

“So this isn’t a dream,” he whispers, leaning against a cedar tree. Anguish fills his heart at the pain they might be going through even if the people trapped in their stone prisons are in a numb state of mind. If they ever wake up on their own they’ll have to live with a disability or worse, grievous injuries that can kill them. Thinking of some of the statues that have broken apart and been worn down by the rough hands of time, he feels that some people may never come back at all because of such tragic circumstances. It feels like a permanent death rather than miraculously resurrecting like he has.

It almost makes him nauseous just thinking about it.

Still, he walks forward, intent on trying to ignore his growing unease of the stretching silence and the unseeing gaze of hundreds of statues and instead mutters a prayer for the mutilated ones, wings shivering as he imagines the sheer pain of losing the very things that make them human.

Now that he’s seen what’s happened to the world while he was trapped, he wonders how long it’s been since the petrifying event hit. So many years flashed by in a blink while he struggled to stay awake.

The answer isn’t one he can accurately formulate, but the absence of human infrastructure is startling to him. No apartment buildings, no busy roads full of cars and people commuting to work, the ever-present feeling of safety that comes with living in a populated community, and people he cherishes to greet him every day are gone. Perhaps a few hundred years has passed? Perhaps a thousand? There’s no possible answer for this many people to be dotting the landscape like this without serious change but the number can’t form. He simply doesn’t know. Senkū would find an answer effortlessly, and Taiju trusts him to ask for one without a second thought.

“I need to find Senkū and Yuzuriha. Who knows where their statues are.”

Walking past the cliff sides and coming across a river, he eagerly drinks his fill of water before stumbling across a petrified young woman who's worn down to chunks, several pieces missing from her body. Time shaved her down so much that her face is the most recognizable human trait he can see besides her torso and feet and the sight produces a bubble of sadness in his heart. She looks younger than he does, possibly a girl in middle school, and her life is already snuffed out. He can’t do anything for her even if instinctively he dearly wants to help. Fate has been cruel to have dealt a hand to her.

He gives her a prayer and forces down the nausea threatening to creep up his throat. It’s all he can do for her.

Deciding to continue with his search, he considers flying overhead to find the camphor tree Yuzuriha stood next to in the hopes that her statue is safe and unharmed. Senkū, however, was in the school building when people turned to stone. His statue could've been buried or destroyed beyond repair and the thought makes his heart sink, stomach churning violently at the thought. He thinks hard as to where the aspiring scientist would end up if his statue turned up somewhere safe like him. With so much having changed in the course of what might be eons it’ll be difficult to find what he’s looking for. If he flies, he’ll have the vantage point but will lose sight of individual statues beneath the canopy. He doesn’t want to risk missing his best friend and his crush over getting a bird’s eye view.

Taiju compromises with both options: he’ll fly, but it’ll be below the canopy. The tradeoff for it is a decrease in speed but it’s the best choice to avoid the fragile statues while he’s aloft.

But not before fashioning himself something to hide his modesty out of vines and leaves for a decent cover. It doesn’t matter if he’s the only one walking around naked, the concept is embarrassingly inappropriate. Plus, if he manages to find Senkū or Yuzuriha buck naked he’s sure one would be furiously disturbed while the other would turn away mortified.

He takes a moment to relax before slapping both hands to his cheeks, psyching himself up to muster more energy into locating his friends.

“All right! Time to find Senkū and Yuzuriha! Wait for me, I’ll find you guys soon!”

Taiju smiles wide and unfurls his wings to thrust himself upward with a powerful flap and a twirl. He steadies his wings to take on a low glide, angling his wings to be perpendicular with the ground. Senkū once told him that his wings—while wider, shorter, and broader in muscle—aren’t the most suited for speeding forward like the shorter teen's ridiculously long wings, he is much more suited to gaining altitude and staying aloft for longer periods of time. The additional muscle mass, according to Senkū, allows Taiju to carry a substantial amount of weight in addition to his own. In simpler terms (for Taiju’s benefit), he can carry more than five times his own weight while flying.

Taiju smiles at the Senkū-like voice droning on about the facts. Then his smile morphs into a frown, worry biting at his heart.

He sinks below the trees, relishing in the feel of wind wrapping around him and brushing his plumage. His eyes stay peeled for any statue he can recognize, hoping it won't take long to find his friends.

Maybe he should try air current gliding like Senkū does. It conserves energy and he can glide longer than consciously fly above the river.

He straightens his wings and forces himself to feel out the air, grinning when he feels wind pushing at him from beneath. With a beat he attempts to imagine what he should be doing based on that advice, only to yelp when he banks sharply upwards and loops down to crash into shrubs, thankfully absent of statues. He groans as he picks his way out of a particularly prickly bush.

“Okay, this might be harder than I thought,” he groans as he plucks a twig out of his hair.

This is harder than he expected it to be. In just a second he was fine and then crashing the next. Was it the slight dip of one wing? Did he not level both of them to be aligned with the ground? Was the current too much for him to handle?

No, his wings were somewhat aligned with the ground. The wind current was gentle yet had enough push to keep him aloft. Inexperience and weight are possibly the only factors that can attribute to his failure.

Then he remembers something Senkū said about riding wind currents with the best advantage anyone could have.

Larger wingspan suited for flying fast, extremely high, and acting like sails to catch the wind.

Less than average body weight and muscle mass. Less drag.

Aerodynamically advantageous.

Taiju’s eyes go wide.

_“Senkū, how is it you’re so fast?”_

_It’s a regular day at school as Taiju visits the science club again to give Senkū some company from a familiar face, wanting to ask him a question regarding an aerial maneuver he’d seen on television the night before, seeking Senkū’s advice on the exact practice instead of consulting the vastness of the internet._

_The one who asks the question is a new member of the club shaking nervously as Senkū bears his scowl on her, only to soften at the sight of her trembling._

_No one sees this except for Taiju._

_“I mean,” Daisuke pauses, looking sheepish as a dark aura settles over Senkū’s head._

_Every club member currently in the room pauses in their experiments to send him inquisitive stares, curiosity getting the best of their attention rather than their class projects. One by one, they set their tools and beakers down to gather around their Club President, oblivious to the abrasive scowl the teen gives them for entering his personal bubble with little regard to his feelings._

_Taiju restrains himself from beating them back with a stick for making his best friend uncomfortable._

_“If you want to know,” Senkū grits, “the less a person weighs the faster they can fly. If a flier is keeping their arms to their body and locking their legs together, combined with their wings they can become more aerodynamic than they would, say, flailing around or flying spread-eagled.”_

_Some of the smaller students smile, happy to know they could fly faster based on the piece of information._

_Taiju pities them for the blunt words Senkū will dish out once he gets their hopes up._

_“But, you have to take in account the shape of your wings and whether or not they’re the right type for speed-flying. Wingspan, muscle density, bone density, the way your feathers are positioned—if your body is built for speed-flying, you would be slimmer in build than the average person and have a wingspan that’s 20% longer than your actual height. Your wings would also have to lack a certain amount of muscle mass and bone density in order for you to take off like a pinball.”_

_“So,” Daisuke starts, hopeful as he fidgets. “Being skinnier, having longer wings, and having less muscle makes you faster? Can someone like that fly like a bullet?”_

_Senkū narrows his eyes._

_Taiju gulps._

_“No, you imbecile. A bullet, depending on the type of gun it’s fired from can travel faster than the speed of sound, which is 343 m/s, or 1,234.8 km/h in the air alone. An AK-47, for example, fires bullets that can travel upwards to about 670 m/s or 2,412 km/h, which is almost double the speed of sound. I’d say no. The average speed a human can fly is approximately 432 km/h or 268.43 mph. You’d also have difficulty with the friction that comes from the resistance of the air around you. If you aren’t careful, you risk aerodynamic flailing, which can kill you. Now leave me be.”_

_“R-Right,” Daisuke stutters, intimidated and perhaps a tad bit disillusioned from the blunt words._

_Senkū huffs as he reigns in the urge to hiss at them in irritation._

_“Then, can you tell me how to ride wind currents?” Haru, the instigator, pipes up. “It shouldn’t be that hard, right?”_

_Senkū stares at him incredulously and barks out a laugh._

_“Oh, you don’t have the right wing type and build as I do, Haru. Plus the way I ride wind currents is 10 billion percent impossible for you to adapt to—not when you have Elliptical wings. You’re used to Air Ball than racing and your collective wingspan is shorter than 1.6 meters. I’d stick to lower level flying for you. If you had wider wings that don’t need to keep flapping they’d catch wind pockets easier.”_

They often considered his friend to be smart but only to a point, when he begins pulling equations and observations from the pit of information that is his brain Taiju finds it extremely difficult to follow even on his best day.

But he was right. When Haru tried to ride air currents during lunch that very same day he merely banked hard and almost crashed into the school building several times just like he did. He remembers comparing the usually smug boy to a flailing chihuahua caught in a snare being carried by a drone operated by four people who jerk the controller around like a yoyo. It was disastrous and unnerving to watch, and then Senkū popped into existence gliding past Haru with a serene expression and a warm smile on his face, wings moving like water with smooth movements before shooting upwards like a missile through the cover of clouds.

Senkū makes gliding and surfing on wind currents comparable to ballroom dancing—elegant, effortless, and awe-inspiringly beautiful to any who watch him fly.

So with that memory in mind, he’s determined to learn without hurting himself. He pictures the way Senkū flies, the afternoons together where he sees Senkū in his element up close in the privacy of each other’s company. Contrary to popular speculation, Senkū does not stretch his wings out flat, he instead adds an outward curve along the inner wings where air catches, the primaries shifting to account for changes in the wind’s direction. He studies how they twitch and shift accordingly when the current lowers or elevates, taking Senkū along as if he was on a dangerous roller coaster. Back then, Taiju trying it out would have had him diving face first into the ocean they often flew over. That always earned him a face full of sand or water and Senkū laughing his feathers off.

So, he tries taking off to catch the pocket of air, failing spectacularly enough that he ends up falling in the river. The second attempt has him falling through the brush. The third almost caused a tree to fall on him.

This is getting nowhere.

Quickly climbing a tree to use as a jump-off point at a reasonably high spot, Taiju rears his wings back and jumps off the branch, settling for a slow glide and feeling out the wind to see if he can catch an updraft to carry him further.

A trick Senkū taught him for his convenience when they spent time experimenting with the Senkū Rocket 2 resurfaces and Taiju feels like hitting himself for not thinking about it before.

_“You need to feel the wind, Taiju. If you don’t follow it you risk losing your chance to ride the currents. Think of it as pockets of air curling underneath your wings. It’s like giving a hug to two people that are squirming a lot, but there’s a delicate pressure you have to adjust to every now and then depending on the weather. Does that make sense?”_

_“I’ll do my best to understand!”_

_“I guess not…”_

Grinning, he flaps and shoots upwards to thrust his wings open, diving sharply before his wings catch wind propelling himself forward and upward, reaching heights he never would have achieved without the aid of his memories. From this height, the midpoint between the heavens and the earth, he looks to the horizon and spots a massive tree in the distance.

Smiling, Taiju roars as he dives, leaving the current to quickly reach his destination.

While Senkū made it clear that less body mass equals less drag and more speed, Taiju’s weight is the catalyst that grants him speed as he beats his wings harder on his downward slope, the scenery blurring beautifully like an artist’s painting as gravity pulls him down.

When he finally does spot Yuzuriha a few dozen meters from the air, petrified and looking vulnerable, Taiju gently touches down at the base of the monster of a camphor growing around her protectively. He gazes at her with such intensity he fears she would disappear like a mirage and he can’t help the tears that fall at seeing her perfectly safe from harm in the embrace of the old camphor tree.

“Yuzuriha,” he whispers. The word drags out of his lungs with little effort, taken away as he studies her statue and hoping he doesn’t come off as a peeping tom. But he can’t help but reassure himself that she hasn’t been damaged, that all her fingers and feathers are intact. Her dainty hands and wings are folded close in an attempt to shield herself and Taiju feels a wave of guilt sweep through him at his failure to protect her from the strange green glow that consumed the world. 

This time, he’ll protect her. When she wakes he’ll be sure of that. And when the time comes that he finds Senkū he’s protecting them _both_ with every fiber of his being. He let them down once, and he’ll rectify it after he expresses his oath.

Taiju sniffles, wiping away the snot running from his nose as fat tears well in his eyes. With a flap of his wings he glides up the tree to stand beside her.

“I’m so, so glad I found you. There’s no way I’d forget what you look like even after all this time.”

He runs the back of his pointer finger gently against her cheek, affection welling in his chest when he thinks back to the day before it all changed. He remembers how her beautiful smile combined with the prettiest gems for eyes had him weak in the knees, stuttering and fumbling his words as she waited for him to continue, her face growing red as his words for her grew more and more ridiculous.

Then he feels his knees shake and he looks down to see them knocking together. His face burns red and he laughs.

“Ah, even now you make me nervous, Yuzuriha,” he exclaims with a bubble of laughter. “After seeing so many broken statues I was scared you’d be the same but the camphor protected you when I couldn’t! It did a great job!”

He breathes to settle his nervousness and carefully climbs the roots, stopping just an arm’s length away from her.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you, something I never got the chance to say before that weird light turned us to stone. I feel like I’m able to say them now after spending some time thinking over those words after breaking free. I—I’ve loved you, for so long,” his voice trembles, cracking in places as tears well up. “So long that I kept fighting it, the darkness that made me sleep without giving me a choice. Now that you’re here, when you break free, I’ll be able to tell you what I wanted to say to you all those years ago, and I'll do everything in my power to free you.”

Tears and snot dribble from his chin as he fights back a sob.

“I have no idea what I’m doing. If Senkū were here he’d know exactly what to do. I need to find him and we’ll work together to free you from the stone. You’ll have to wait for me, but I promise to break you free, even if it takes a few more years to do it.”

Her statue says nothing, yet as the leaves part to make way for spots of sunlight to kiss Yuzuriha’s cheek Taiju represses the urge to hug the statue. Damaging her would do him no good.

He leans forward and carefully presses his forehead to the statue’s, closing his eyes as more tears slither down his skin.

“I can promise you that, Yuzuriha.”

He lifts his head to wipe his face when he spots markings on the tree’s bark, eyes widening as he trails his eyes lower. His breath hitches and his heart leaps in his throat.

_**Run along the river downstream. I’ll see you there, big oaf.** _

Taiju stares, joy bursting in his chest as he takes to the air with a loud scream of elation. Only one person would say those words.

Senkū is the only one to call him by that name.

Senkū is _alive_!

Taiju bellows with joy, tears leaking profusely down his face as he rockets towards the river with the simple instructions in mind.

* * *

It’s on a crisp October morning that Senkū feels the urge to explore the woods further down the river once the sun peaks the horizon, feeling like he’s suffocating in the safety of his campsite as his health improves. He woke up crusty-eyed, stiff-limbed, and feeling bored out of his mind when the only eventful things happening were the birds fighting each other for a spot in a tree. 

His leg recovered enough for him to walk on it but the pull of every step doesn’t dull the pain. There’s no frolicking around like a peppy cheerleader in a field of flowers when he can literally tear the muscle and add more time to his recovery than is necessary.

His wings, though, haven’t gotten any better. Compared to his leg, it’s possible they’re growing stiffer, sore, and he knows it’s because he hasn’t stretched them in a long time that their condition is worsening. His usually bright plumage is gritty and unclean, and the few places he can reach are a few of his primary feathers and the wings’ forearm bones peeking over his shoulders. He's also lost a lot of feathers from the terrible living conditions he's settled with and he grimaced as he brushes a hand over them. Oily, dirty, splits in the plumage like hair with split ends. It makes his skin crawl that his wings have come to such a state. Just bathing in clean river water can't seem to get rid of the grime clinging to them.

The nausea that creeps up at the reminder of it all has him stop and place a hand to his stomach, willing the organ to settle. His eyes glare at the ground before flicking upwards, frowning as wind brushes his hair.

The world, in all its wild beauty and untainted landscape, is far too silent. A deep ache in his chest reflects it when he finds himself wondering if this is what his life will be like for the next few years.

The last few months he’s been walking around in a sort of stalemate, mindlessly wandering when there’s nothing occupying his brain. There's no goal beyond survival, and there's nothing resembling a society to give him something to do. Already he’s done all he can on his own, gathering enough furs and leathers to last him the winter and spring for two people, and after carefully counted days he’s slowly acclimated to the wilderness and its dangers more than he’s comfortable, being backed into corners the few times more animals did attempt to kill him. More giant wolves, lions, angry wild boars, snakes, and the occasional bird that tried making nests in his hair were a health hazard he had to avoid at some point.

Yes, the birds. To any other sane person that would sound ridiculous, but those pesky feathered gremlins nearly plucked his eyes out once because he tried to get them to leave his hair alone and they were tiny, angry balls of plumage. The most vicious one is the white-backed woodpecker nesting a few trees from his hut, surprisingly enough.

Sliding down the ladder and grunting as his feet meet ground, Senkū hisses at the sudden drop pinching the nerves in his leg and the shock of pain ripples through his wings. He walks it off to take a bite out of a ringo apple he was lucky enough to harvest after stumbling on what used to be an orchard over the hills to the west of his camp the day before. The area may have once been farmland from the relatively flat ground and the larger trees surrounding a considerable number of smaller trees.

Biting into the sweet flesh of the apple he savors the flavor and glances at the baskets full of fruit, both from his own foraging and from the peace offerings the monkeys leave him every few days. He hasn’t seen the curious creatures in a while but he shrugs it off, thinking they may be looking for food elsewhere.

Senkū ignores the feeling of loneliness that creeps in like ichor at the lack of interaction and instead thinks aloud, a habit that surfaced around the second month alone.

His fellow classmates would make him into a laughing stock for craving human interaction when the very concept itself used to make him hiss at people for even trying to approach him.

“It’s around 79 degrees celsius and the weather will slowly get cloudier towards sunset, if I’m correct. It’s 12:17PM, best for fishing. Need to check my traps and see if I got lucky. Better check on Taiju later and see if he’s broken free yet.” He looks towards the skies, longing burning in his ruby eyes. His gaze drops to the ground as his shoulders dip, a frown crossing his lips. “I still haven’t found Yuzuriha yet. I have no indication as to where she is without the advantage of a bird’s eye view. I’m 10 billion percent sure she’s safe somewhere if she’s near that tree still. Maybe I should check downriver?”

It’s worth a try. She is someone he cares for by a margin over strangers.

So, the rest of the day he explores the region around him, holding his dagger close and keeping his senses on high alert. Since he can't fly, he has to travel on foot and his stamina loves to mock him for his limited physical prowess.

On the way he finds some arikko, an herb that can soothe stomach pains. His eyes just about glitter with joy when he discovers the large patch of it growing close to the river near a fork where a large tree cuts the stream into two. It's perfect to combat ailments that would sooner hinder him than help him. He takes a bit of time to pick some and stow them one of his pouches for later. Best before he loses this opportunity while it presents itself. 

No animals linger nearby. The sound of rushing water and the distant bleating of deer fill the usual silence, and he sighs as he trudges his way up the river, feet absent of their leather wraps to take advantage of the clear dirt near the water. It's a bit chilly, but he can endure it.

He walks for an hour by the time he decides to put his footwear back on, one hand grasping his dagger.

Approaching a slope, he decides to veer off the river in favor of finding a spot to rest. His legs shake from the long walk and sitting beneath a tree would do him wonders. Spotting a few bushes bearing a bountiful amount of yama ichigo, he harvests enough to fill his stomach for a while, humming softly at the sweet, slightly crunchy taste.

“Even after all these years some things don't change. How _exciting_ ,” he grins.

As he munches on the few remaining berries he comes across an enormous tree clouding the sky above it with a bed of foliage. Senkū stares at it with wide eyes.

“That is the widest tree I've seen so far. It looks like it'll be perfect for shelter if I had stumbled on this tree before creating my hut, but at least I have another place in mind if something happens to my camp. The berries around here are plentiful, and the yama ichigo bushes aren't the only fruit bearing plants around here. Perfect if I can't find anything in a few hours.”

Inspecting the tree further, he hums along to a tune lost to time, hand never leaving his dagger. When he makes a full circle of the tree, he freezes to a stop.

Yuzuriha, trapped in stone and in a protective stance as her gaze stares almost skyward, but in a protective cradle formed by the camphor tree he distinctly remembers being so much smaller that he'd last seen it.

“Yuzu…” he trails, hardly believing his eyes.

It's pure luck that brings him here, a road he chose because he was tired and in need of rest. If he had kept walking down this path he would've missed her entirely, and then he'd still question if he'll ever find her at all.

His eyes tear up.

“You and the big oaf are going to be the death of my dignity, you friggin’ idiots,” his voice cracks. Climbing the tree roots to reach her, he stares at her, taking in her petrified features the same way he's done to Taiju and forces himself not to cry at the relief that she's safe and unharmed. Even that ridiculous headband is still attached to her head, though it baffles him that the thing even survived this long without the wear and tear of time and weather.

He doesn't say another word to her statue. She can't hear him either way. Instead, he takes his dagger and carves a short message into the bark behind her peeking over her shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead at the effort as he drags the blade to form simple words bold enough to be read without issue. Upon finishing, he gives Yuzuriha one last glance before hastily making his way back down the hill to return to camp, hoping to avoid wandering around at sunset when predators are active.

Wind sweeps through and he gives a little shiver, palming the bare skin of his arms to warmth and looks down at his attire with a mix of distaste and misery.

“Dammit—it’s not even winter yet. This coat won’t survive another few months if I don’t make another one. If I use one of the uglier furs I can insulate the inner lining and layer the leather pelts three times. I’ll need to make pants, too.” Glancing back at what he can see of his wings he grimaces, stress lines carving into the skin between his brows as he spots the disorganized section of dirty feathers. If he can’t tend to them he might as well cover them with a cloak.

“I need to add more layers or I’ll freeze this winter, and that’s the last thing I need.”

It’s not exactly freezing yet, but he’s worried about winter. It’s the time he gets sick almost every week, be it viral or bacterial. It’s so bad he often got sick from students who never stayed home when they developed a cold or the flu, and recovering was annoying. He got sick seven times at a minimum in one month when he was 11 years old and Byakuya used to joke that sickness liked him so much it followed him everywhere and he wasn’t wrong. Catching pneumonia once was not a happy time.

But getting sick in modern times is vastly different to getting sick in a world frozen in the stone age, and sickness is a death sentence in the absence of modern medicine.

Still, there are alternatives. He has plenty of molted feathers, leathers, and furs he stored away in his hut to keep warm, so that is enough to keep him from developing hypothermia or even pneumonia on his own, but food will be scarce compared to summer and catching live game will surely jeopardize his health. Deer would be moving much more frequently and hunting would be harder with the snow revealing his traps without the cover of bushes and trees. Predators would also be on the move once the snow hits and he’ll be an easy target for anything possessing a large maw with rows of sharp teeth. With how limited his options are he’d probably hole up in his hut where they can’t reach him unless he miraculously disguises his scent and blends in with the snow and pines around him.

“Not one millimeter would I go through the effort of making myself look like a Christmas tree,” he palms his face, muttering beneath his breath.

At least he has spears to protect himself. Poking a lion in the nose with one last month was hilarious. Admittedly, the action eased the fear inside him somewhat. The nightmares losing partial consistency across fitful nights because the lion made a face that almost resembled those of cartoon characters and he almost died because he was laughing too hard.

Shaking his head, Senkū grabs some spears and the chert dagger as he makes his way out of the campsite, following the dirt path that formed from his frequent visits to the bat cave housing Taiju’s statue when he has nothing else better to do. Each passing day he finds himself becoming more impatient for his friend’s awakening, keeping track of the time since he’d found him as he goes about doing whatever he can to make things easier for himself and, eventually, Taiju, once the big guy is up and flying.

Senkū squints his eyes as he enters the cave, eyes zeroing in on Taiju still lying on the bed of dry grass with the nitric acid dripping on him. He makes himself comfortable and sits on the ground, gently depositing his spears to think, wanting to spend some time with the statue and pretend he isn’t the only one walking.

Thoughts about Taiju take the place of distant worries for winter. Plans, really, that involve Taiju helping him get through it with his boundless energy and enthusiasm. He’s not capable of doing what he’s done for six months straight without consequences and the creeping exhaustion makes itself more and more apparent when his hands shake and drop things without him wanting them to, how his wings have been growing painfully restless to stretch and fly, his vision blurring, irritability spiking, and that the slight limp he has from the lion bite is slowly going away alongside the twinges of pain from putting weight on it.

To say the least, living in the unforgiving wilderness is hell.

“When are you waking up, Taiju? Are you really making us wait? I just found Yuzuriha, are you gonna make her wait for you even longer? It’s been 3,719 years; I have so much that needs to be done but I’m not a musclehead like you are. I’m 10 billion percent sure I’m going to crash soon, so hurry your ass up.”

Senkū leaves the cave after his little rant, sparing his best friend’s statue a glance before he heads for camp, turning in for the day as his torches keep animals away.

The next day, Senkū heads out for an early start and heads in the direction of the river, feeling a bit bold yet paranoid as he leaves the safety of the camping grounds to collect more arikko. Several spears, a dagger, and some bolas he’d fashioned a while ago are strapped on his person as a precaution, one hand gripping the handle of his stone axe with white knuckles.

The sky is open again, allowing the sun’s rays to shower him with warmth as a flock of ducks soar high above. A few stray clouds dot the bright blue and light reflects off the surface of the water rushing down the mountains. A small breeze picks up and Senkū lets it wash over him even if the tantalizing scene crows a taunt at him.

Unlike the first few times he’s come down here this is possibly the only time he manages to avoid spiralling down into another hysterical fit over his wings. With time and the occasional visit to collect fresh water, the pain that festered slowly mends but the reminder of what he’s lost will always be there as a deep ache that refuses to go away. The best comparison he can think of is the loss of a cherished individual.

His greatest advantage reduced to nothing but a liability. Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun. His wings crafted from wax melted to nothing as he flew too close to what he shouldn’t desire and plummeted to his demise.

It’s bitter irony and desolation that keeps him from walking back to his hut to curl in his nest.

He hears the calls of more ducks and he looks up to watch as they glide in formation, their graceful flying preventing them from breaking their form. His wings jerk and he nearly spits out what he's bitten off his apple as pain ripples across his back. He growls in frustration and devours the apple, throwing the core with such contempt he hopes its seeds would feel it.

It’s 2PM when Senkū leaves the riverbed hauling pots filled with water up the hill he came from, sweating and gasping as the weight of his load tries to push him down. He revives the fire to roast leftover meat from a deer he caught earlier in the morning, settling down to fish out some mushrooms to cook on sticks.

Leaning back, he watches the flames twirl and dance to the whims of the breeze, shivers ghosting across his skin and giving him goosebumps.

The mushrooms finish first and he grabs a stick to bite into the soft cap, relishing in its taste. Without an abundant supply of spices to add flavor to his meals he chooses to savor them instead of wallowing in what he doesn't have. He's had too much to miss from the Modern Days to warrant another pity party and he's not including food on that list. The stress alone is killing him.

He wishes Taiju were here.

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Making a rocket, what's it look like?”_

_“Whoa, that’s so cool! And, uh… where should I put these?”_

_“If you want me to imprint on you, please don't be a dumbass and mess up my equipment. This project is important. You can set those by the door.”_

_“You betcha, little buddy!”_

_“Don’t call me that, you big oaf!”_

Heh, he made it sound like he was the duckling finding a replacement mother and getting attached. Taiju was the first person to approach and reach out a hand in friendship even in the face of blunt observations and the insults that go right over his spiky brown head. He established himself as Senkū’s protector in the face of danger, against many of the stronger boys when they trashed his inventions or threatened to hurt him by freaking them out with his _“Defense Only Mode”_ pose. He made sure he escorted Senkū on their way to school every morning out of worry with a bag packed with gohan and hakumei, masking his intention to protect him by claiming that the smaller boy needs to eat more if he plans to grow taller. He kept Senkū company when emotions became too much, building over the course of months from experimental failures, a tiff with Byakuya, bullies from school, or simply bursting for no reasonable explanation that it startles even Taiju with how uncharacteristic the outburst is compared to Senkū’s usual mood.

Taiju literally wormed his way into his heart, usually wary and distant from other human beings, but the big lug somehow pulled off a trapeze act and blundered his way into Senkū’s way of life, brimming with bright enthusiasm and a never ending supply of optimistic positivity. Like a sun rising to kiss the earth’s surface with life, and Senkū realized back then that Taiju would never betray him like many other children his age tended to do and for that he’s immensely grateful, touched that another person would find him endearing enough to want to spend time participating in his experiments regardless if he looked like a dumbass.

Senkū lets a slow, pained smile grace his lips before it drops. He sighs and takes a swig of water, using some to extinguish the fire with a flick of a wrist. Reminiscing on better days only makes his mood sour.

Polishing off the remains of the other mushrooms with a few bites and eating halfway through the strip of meat, he hears a strange sound that sounds alien in this Stone World he lives in.

“Strange… a lion or a wolf do not sound like that. Foxes aren’t even in the area from what I’ve seen. So what is this?”

Silence quiets the sounds around him into an eerie stillness that causes his feathers to puff up a little, his skin crawling as he lowers himself to the ground, careful of the wind that could potentially give his scent away. With how many zoos Japan once ran in the Modern Era he isn’t sure if more than just two predator species managed to settle in the region he’s in. So far, the lions and wolves were the only active predators he encountered, and a few of the zoos hosted tigers and bears as well as foxes and other carnivorous species.

“—nkū!”

Tearing his eyes away from the fire and whipping his head in the direction the sound came from, rippling in the distance like the bellow of thunder. Senkū feels his heart skip a beat.

“—nyone here?!”

Senkū jumps at the sound ripping through the air like a war call. Its guttural, deep roar from a distance is nothing like the roars of lions or the howling of wolves he’s experienced in the Stone World. Is it another monster of an animal that caught his scent? Is it a person who also revived on their own? He isn't sure, and he scrambles to find his dagger and axe.

The noise is far too close to his location.

Huffing, he takes the meat from the spit and sets it aside to avoid getting ash on it by accident. Crouching and deftly snatching a few sticks he dashes into the forest to locate the disturbance, questioning if he really should seek out the disturbance that 10 billion percent freaks the hair follicles out of his scalp. Running head first is a boneheaded move on his part but something nags at him to seek it out.

What will he encounter? Is it a trap to lure him into the open for the intruder to strike? Is it an animal and he’s just running headlong to his own death?

The answer to that question is unknown.

He passes trees and shrubs, lungs doubling in taking in more oxygen as his muscles begin feeling the familiar burning sensation of lactic acid as he forces himself to move faster, narrowly avoiding a deer prancing through.

“This better be something that won’t kill me this time. I’m tired of lions and wolves trying to eat me every damn day!”

It takes him considerably less time to run down the hill and follow the river to climb the one tree that has low-arching branches he can easily climb onto. He pauses at the base, flicking his eyes around to spot even a hint of a threat. His wings don’t shiver or puff up, so he can say with 10 billion percent certainty that whatever awaits him further ahead may be a neutral party at best.

Senkū slowly climbs his way up the tree, arms shaking to pull himself over each branch until he reaches the highest branch that can hold his weight. He shuffles around to settle on one covered in moss to take advantage of the view, narrowing his eyes as he scans the ground around him for any signs of a possible human being. Under the cover of foliage he feels he is hidden enough to watch his surroundings without alerting the intruder that he's in the vicinity. And with the wind blown towards him his scent is practically trackless if the culprit is coming from the east

Curling near the trunk he waits, ears latching onto every noise being made in the vicinity. He tucks his scarred leg to his chest, arms locking around it so he can rest his head on his knee, absently messing with his hair when minutes pass without anything alarming happening yet.

“—Senkū!”

Said boy springs up with a yelp, almost falling off his perch at the loud voice filling the area, echoing off to the distance as flocks of birds fly away with shrieking caws.

“What the hell,” Senkū whispers, heart pumping too fast for his chest as he registers the voice speaking his name.

_Hold up. This isn’t happening now, is it?_

He can attribute the strange phenomenon to hallucinations produced from prolonged isolation, his mind craving another human being to talk to creating those symptoms, but it’s _impossible_. He’s the only one here, alive and alone wandering around with statues staring back at him. It doesn’t make any sense for another person to wake up unless they’ve been awake consuming calories throughout their 3,700+ years on their own.

Worry burrows in his chest as his breathing picks up. Has he gone senile already?

“I can’t have become deranged in the six months I’ve been free,” Senkū mutters, a hand palming his forehead. “There’s not a millimeter of a chance for me to feel as such. It could be stress, lack of nutrients, exhaustion? Couldn’t have been hallucinogenic mushrooms or poisonous plants, that would be foolish. Is it the water? Or staying awake for 3,700 years counting to myself? No, no—I’m missing something…”

Footsteps and the snapping of twigs from beneath him has his freeze.

“Hey, are you up there?”

Below. The bright voice—speaking perfectly smooth in Japanese—is coming from below his position in the tree. It startles him enough he almost slips off the branch he’s perched on, wincing when his wings jostle from the sudden movement.

How in Sir Walter Scott’s tic has anyone managed to sneak up on him without alerting him to their presence?!

Climbing higher Senkū contemplates his next move, fingering his dagger as he lowers himself to a crouch and peers through the cover of leaves, settling on a blob of pale pink and green in the distance. Bemusement colors his face and his eyebrows hike up his forehead, eyes searching out this mystery blob. When the thing doesn’t approach he groans and slowly slides down to another branch where the leaf cover is less dense, clear enough for him to see what it is that caught his attention.

He could be hallucinating. Might’ve been the arikko he consumed to relieve him of a stomach bug he had last night.

Parting a few leaves, his eyes study the blob much more closely.

Two-legged, two armed, shiny hairless skin, ripped physique, head of hair, spiked eyebrows, earnest brown eyes widening at the sight of him emerging from the leaves.

“Senkū?”

Standing there healthy and alive is Taiju, whose eyes shine brightly when they latch on his partially hidden form. 

“Senkū—it really is you,” Taiju trails, eyes never leaving Senkū even as the scientist doesn’t make any move to descend from his perch.

Senkū’s eyes furrow as his mind comes to grips with this new change in more than six months. It isn’t unpleasant nor is it surprising, but the suddenness of this long-awaited reunion throws him off.

Taiju looks healthier than he does in all his somewhat naked glory, looking up at him with a face mere moments away from breaking into tears of joy that threatens to reduce him to a blubbering baboon in seconds, a large toothy smile replacing the awed slack jaw as he takes a few steps closer. The oaf is naked with only a skirt of leaves and vines not unlike the one he made for himself when he broke free, looking almost embarrassingly small around his trim hips.

Senkū relaxes upon seeing another human being for the first time in half a year, eyes softening as a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time threatens to explode from his chest, locking his limbs in place even when he’s shaking from both nerves and emotions. Taiju smiles wide at him and waves his arms about like the excitable moron he is, and the familiar sight almost has him tearing up right then and there, sharp ruby eyes closing as he clenches the branch harder, willing himself not to break into a sob in front of what he sincerely considers his best friend.

Senkū opens his eyes and makes a grin, hiding how his bottom lip wobbles as Taiju reciprocates.

“Yo, big oaf. ‘Bout time you woke up.”

Seeing Taiju’s ugly mug after so long hits close to home how much he missed the guy. 

And that lasts until Taiju springs at him with a flap of his wings with his arms reaching for him in a manner that has his instincts blaring in alarm at the incoming hug the boy is ready to give. He pales.

_Shit, my wings! If he hugs me he’ll crush my wings!_

“Senkū! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Before Taiju can wrap his arms around him, Senkū kicks him in the face, skin crawling at the thought of Taiju hugging him while almost completely naked.

“What in Newton’s name are you trying to do?! Don’t hug me while you’re naked,” Senkū screeches, squirming away from those arms that can crush rocks like they’re covered in flesh-eating bacteria.

Taiju sputters at the kick and whines as Senkū’s foot presses harder into his face, looking happy even when a bruise might form on his cheek.

“But Senkū I missed you, little buddy!”

“I don’t care if you missed me, you don’t go hugging people naked all willy nilly you nincompoop! You would have broken my back!”

Well, also true.

Taiju pouts but his face contorts like a wrinkly pancake smacking a wall against Senkū’s foot. “You’re so mean, Senkū.”

“ _I’m_ mean? I’m mean only because you love _breaking my spine in half_!”

“I do not!”

“Explain ninth grade,” Senkū fires back, glaring at him.

Crickets answer that statement as Taiju groans.

“Sorry,” Taiju mutters as he extracts himself, frowning when he actually takes a moment to study his best friend without the other freaking out over his clingy affection. Crouched as he is, Senkū seems hesitant to leave the cover of foliage hiding most of his body from him and the change in behavior sets off a red flag in his mind. Though he might not be the most reliable in the intellectual department he’s far from stupid. Something’s wrong and if it’s affecting Senkū then he needs to figure out a problem.

Noticing the shift in Taiju’s face, Senkū sighs in relief as he cracks his neck, missing how the taller teen flies up to the branch only to pull him off by the arm, causing him to yelp as Taiju hoists him up so he can wrap an arm around his middle. Senkū takes a moment to stare at him like he’s lost his mind before his eyes wander to the ground, now more than 20 meters below. A sense of dread pools in his stomach.

“Taiju,” Senkū draws out, unease spilling in his voice, “what are you doing?”

“I’m cheering you up,” Taiju cheers, oblivious to Senkū’s apprehension as they soar higher, his wings granting him altitude as they near stratus clouds.

Senkū sweats as his wings shiver nervously, the pain sparking like tiny shocks through his nerves. They’re more than a kilometer from the ground now and he really wants Taiju to get down.

“Taiju, please tell me you’re not going to—”

“What better way to celebrate than to freefall!”

Senkū’s mind blanks.

Oh, Taiju and his cursed obliviousness was once considered the very thing that will be the death of him and this might be the prediction coming true. Taiju flaps his wings harder and Senkū tries to wrestle out of his strong grip, getting his attention to hopefully stop him from shooting any higher. His hair billows and curls around his face as he wiggles and fights Taiju’s grip causing the arm to tighten around his waist. His wings jerk and shake and in his panic the pain only makes it worse. He can’t fly, can’t even pull off a glide with his wings the way they are and Taiju is recklessly pulling them upward for a freefall he has _no chance in surviving_.

“Senkū,” Taiju smiles down at the smaller teen. “I’m not letting go without you free falling with me!”

Senkū’s face whitens. Taiju doesn’t realize he can’t fly, not that he’s told Taiju as to why but he can feel the drag lessening, their speed slowing down as wind dims to a breeze and his eyes contract to tiny pinpricks of red as fear shoots through his being.

That’s what he was afraid would happen if Taiju got a hold of him, and currently the only thing that’s flying is the train of screeching thoughts in his head cursing out the buffoon of a musclebound teenager who thinks this is a normal celebratory event when he’s actually sentencing Senkū to an early grave!

“Taiju, please put us back on land,” he pleads, struggling in his hold. “There’s no need to celebrate right now!”

Taiju gives him a long, considering stare. “Oh, come on, buddy. You love freefalls!”

Yes, but in this instance he’ll be nothing more than a smear without his wings.

“W-Wait. C’mon, reconsider. There’s plenty of time for that after we… Taiju, wait, you can’t—”

“See you there, Senkū!” Taiju stills his wings and reaches the peak of his ascent, slowing down as gravity leaches the speed from his body and Senkū would have admired the brief moment of stillness in the quiet of the near-heavens around them, the sun peaking through to illuminate their bodies, if it weren’t for his handicap. Taiju’s eyes are closed, content and happy, oblivious to the increasing panic that wells in Senkū’s chest as the arm around him holds him closer. Then, his panicking peaks when the secure arm around his waist loosens and let’s him go, a breath stuck in his lungs as Taiju tips to the side with his wings spread and a grin spreading on his face.

_Oh, Einstein, I’m going to die. Dear friggin’ Einstein and all that is holy Newton’s law of universal gravitation, I am going to die!_

Gravity pulls him down. He flails like a ragdoll, wind ripping through his hair and clothes as limbs claw at nothing for purchase, wind screaming past his ears as a sinking, nauseous pit digs in his stomach with a vengeance. He doesn’t feel himself claw at his shoulders, his wings jerking violently as the instinct to fly overrides his careful control. A screech rips through his throat unbidden as the need to _fly, fly high, spread your wings!_ courses through his brain.

Initially his speed starts at zero, taking in his body weight of 130 kg sans wings and the height he’s falling from being around a kilometer in distance he’ll slowly approach a threshold of 504 km/h upon impact, the amount of energy exerted upon impact would be around 1,274 megajoules.

It takes approximately 80 joules of kinetic energy to kill a human being. 1.274 megajoules are Super Sayan levels of lethality.

Again, he curses Taiju and his obliviousness.

He glares at Taiju even as his throat threatens to clog. “Idiot! Stop falling and fly us down,” he screeches.

* * *

Taiju rights himself when he hears the screech and looks up to find Senkū flailing, wings clamped shut and eyes blown wide with fear. His hands claw at the air like it’s dragging him down and Taiju, for the life of him can’t figure why.

Why does it look like Senkū can’t use his wings? Why is he screaming?

Skyfalls are one of Senkū’s favorite flying activities whenever he feels stuck or in need of entertainment. He often drags Taiju with him to go as high as they can possibly go before arresting their wings and diving towards the earth with exhilarated grins and bright rubies for eyes shining like a galactic treasure. He always waits until he reaches the last few feet between him and the ground before swooping forward with a spin, whooping as the accumulated speed rockets him across the landscape in a blur.

But looking at Senkū right now, his eyes are shut tight. There’s no grin or sharp glint of scheming eyes, no.

Senkū looks like an ordinary pre-winged era human.

Without hesitation, Taiju snaps his wings down to rocket towards Senkū and snatches him from the air, flinching when Senkū latches on tightly and digs his blunt nails in his shoulders.

“Taiju, you friggin’ idiot get us down!”

“I-I’m sorry! I just don’t understand what’s going on!”

“I’ll explain later, just fly us down!”

Dreadful worry seeps into Taiju as he gently handles Senkū into a bridal carry, earning himself a glare as he slowly descends. He stares at Senkū, lost and confused as to why the shorter teen is acting like this.

Senkū loves the sky and the way the wind rushes against him, how his wings cut through the air like the sharpest blade ever created. He’s never hesitated or objected to a freefall in his life and for the first time now rings alarm bells in Taiju’s head.

That’s when he notices something that doesn’t quite look right. He questions whether it’s real or not as his eyes latch on to a discolored mark on his left leg, his pelt hiking farther up his knee, unable to conceal it from Taiju’s probing eyes.

He looks to Senkū’s eyes, taking in the darker than normal reds and the exhaustion lingering in their shadows.

“Senkū…” he whispers, gaining the boy’s attention. “What happened to your leg?”

Senkū shudders in his grip and stares at him with closed-off eyes, lips flattening to a line. They’re only a few meters from the ground now as he flutters his wings gently. Senkū releases a sigh and groans, rubbing at his face.

Taiju’s feet settle on land and he doesn’t immediately deposit Senkū on the ground, opting to study him for anything else that might be out of the ordinary but Senkū wiggles to get out of his hold and he finally puts him down.

Senkū rearranges his messy hair and smoothes down his clothes but he neglects to rearrange his feathers, which is completely out of character for Taiju. Senkū tends to keep his wings in pristine condition and one feather out of place is enough to make him twitch unless he fixes it. To see him do nothing with either wing as he walks away unsettles Taiju.

He falls into step with Senkū and goes to ask a question when Senkū’s oddly tired eyes stop him from doing so.

“It’s a long story, Taiju. For now, follow me to camp. There’s a lot I need to tell you.”

Taiju stops and frowns at the tall-haired boy. “No. Something happened while I wasn’t there for you and now you’re trying to hide it from me.”

Senkū flinches but he doesn't stop. The oddest thing about that reaction is the lack of movement from his wings, and Taiju sees most of his emotional cues through his wings. Right now, Senkū walks at an angle, as if he doesn’t want anyone to see them, and Taiju frowns when Senkū awkwardly walks that way for another few minutes.

There’s a sense of wrongness in the air as he continues to stare at him.

“Senkū—”

“Taiju, please.”

Taiju freezes. Just now, Senkū’s voice doesn’t hold a lot of the confidence he usually carries back in their school days. It holds a fragility in each syllable that has worry sparking through his chest.

Something happened in his absence and Senkū wasn’t protected at all. How long has he been free of stone while he slept?

“All right,” Taiju acquiesces, but the curl of distress forming in his stomach has him asking, “Senkū, please tell me it isn’t bad.”

A sad, sardonic smile pulls at Senkū’s lips. “If you’re worried about my leg, there’s more I’ll have to tell you. You know me too well. It’ll be obvious if I’m hiding anything.”

Taiju nods, face turning serious.

Despite being considered slow-minded on some things, years spent together for almost everything has him acquainted with many of Senkū’s cues, usually ones from his wings and face when no one is looking.

Their walk to Senkū’s camp is quiet. Other than the occasional cry of birds and the crunch of dirt beneath their feet, the pair don’t say a word to each other. Taiju attempts to strike up conversation to get a hint as to what's troubling Senkū but no words come out, and he finds it especially difficult to do so when it’s clear Senkū is stalling the inevitable.

“We’re here,” Senkū mutters as he brushes away a branch to reveal an elaborately-made wooden hut sitting on a massive branch, rope and wood poles holding it all together. Beside it is a rack of spears, woven baskets full of mushrooms and fruit, what looks like a furnace made from clay in the corner, and a massive firepit to the left of it all, ashes still smoking.

“Senkū,” Taiju whispers, awe gripping his heart as his wings open and flutter with delight. “Did you build all of this?”

“What do you mean? ‘Course I did, I was the only one here for half a year while I was waiting for your ass to break out.”

The answer has Taiju pause, mulling over his next words carefully as Senkū sets down the sticks he’s gathered. “That long,” he asks weakly. Then his eyes flick to Senkū’s leg, the dark marks contrasting with his skin by a few shades.

Senkū notices and sighs, putting the last of the sticks away to tend to the firepit. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, there are more important things to do.”

“Right,” Taiju nods, “Where’s the city? I saw statues of people on my way to the camphor tree. A lot of them are stuck in rocks and cliffsides, too.”

Senkū stops, frozen as a frown pulls his lips before he sets his tools down. The atmosphere now takes on a sullen tone and his feathers shiver a bit as the sounds around them fade. Taiju almost regrets asking him when a dark look crosses Senkū’s eyes.

“3,719 years. That’s how long we’ve been trapped in stone.”

Taiju’s freezes. “3,719 years? How… How do you know that?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I counted the seconds, keeping in mind the current time and date we were petrified. Right now, it’s October 5th, Sunday, 5738. It’s around 3:32PM and the weather is pretty favorable.”

“Y-You’ve been awake for that long?”

Senkū lets out a bitter chuckle, one that sounds wrong coming from his best friend and Taiju feels he’s missing something. Looking back to his scarred leg, he furrows his brows and levels Senkū with a serious stare, one that causes him to look away, as if ashamed. Even that action is seriously wrong with the usually unruffled teen and that forms a pit in his stomach, heart pounding as he tries to formulate another question

“Senkū, what happened.”

The cracks in Senkū’s forehead twist with his brows as they crinkle, a line in the middle forming when previously it wasn’t there before.

Stress lines. How did Senkū develop stress lines on his face when before his face was flawlessly smooth? He never really scrunched his eyebrows so much, let alone grimace when usually soft smirks and evil grins stretched on his face. And come to think of it, he also only had one lock of green-tipped hair hanging in his face; a second one joins the other on the left, framing his face and crossing over his nose. His physique is much more developed than it was when he’d worn that lab coat, and physically he wasn’t very strong.

He can see developed calf and thigh muscles as Senkū climbs to his hut, the added muscle on his arms flexing as he hefts a basket to his back. The strangest things he’s noticed, though, are out of character. Senkū walks around so silently he almost misses the younger boy climbing up his hut, which is slightly unnerving. The other thing is the way he’s moving around. Despite the near soundless quality of his steps Senkū never once has used his wings.

That in itself is the equivalent of the apocalypse happening. Never in Taiju’s years being around Senkū has he ever seen or heard the teen decline flying, let alone express himself through his wings. The only times he’s been physically unable to fly were due to lightning strikes, sickness, and an injury that took three months to heal. Voluntarily, he’d refuse to stay grounded and Byakuya had a hard time keeping him _planted_ on the ground.

It’s as alarming as a loved one developing stage 4 cancer.

Senkū returns to the pit to roll a stick tied with rope to grind against a slab of wood, surprising Taiju when a spark of flame smokes into existence. Senkū deftly sets the pit alight and retrieves a basket full of mushrooms to put them on sticks and roast over the growing fire similarly to marshmallows. He then slides over a covered basket and opens it to reveal slabs of meat, taking two out to poke onto sticks. Taiju decides to wait before asking him questions, knowing full well when Senkū shuts people out when he isn’t ready to spill his problems.

He sits down next to him and scoots closer to bump shoulders, feeling the younger relax when he does so.

They stay like that, eating voraciously as the roasted mushrooms and smoked meat fill their bellies. Taiju eats a bit more than Senkū, sighing in relief as the dull throb of hunger fades to fullness. He thanks him for the meal and Senkū shrugs it off. The typical hand wave he makes over the compliment is a familiar gesture that comforts Taiju, knowing some things haven’t completely changed.

* * *

Night fully embraces the world by the time they finish, Senkū mechanically telling him it’s now five in the afternoon. Taiju should feel somewhat awed by his ability to unconsciously tell time but he shudders when it sounds wrong, like the niggling feeling at the back of his neck warning him something is up.

He gets the chance to ask him why that is when they climb up to the hut to settle for the night.

Taiju admires the extravagant nest Senkū made, noticing the abundance of soft furs and molted feathers intertwined with vines, fronds, and all sorts of pelts lining the bottom. It’s big enough for the both of them, oddly enough, but Senkū waves his curiosity aside.

“I don’t always curl up, so a bigger nest is what I usually make.”

Taiju nods. “That’s fair. You don’t like feeling cramped.”

“Well, ever wake up with cramps all over your wings? It’s a nightmare getting them out,” Senkū snorts, waving a hand at him.

Taiju smiles before a bubble of laughter rings through the hut. “You always hated playing hide and seek on the ground because cramped places were the only places you could hide with your hair!”

Senkū flushes and rounds on him with such a menacing glare it could stop vikings but Taiju can’t hold it in. An image of Senkū from when they were in their first year of middle school trying valiantly to hide in bushes and boxes always ended with him being easily spotted no matter what he tried until he started climbing in vents and nooks between bookshelves and chests in the offices to even win and the boy hated it all, proclaiming he was done playing the game when kids poked fun at his hair.

A set of pelts is thrown at his face and Taiju yelps, snatching the offending items before they could fall to the floor. He pulls them up and realizes they’re clothes. His questioning eyes stare at them and then at Senkū, the teen looking back with an amused smirk as he alights a torch.

Taiju pouts at him, “So mean, Senkū.”

“Ah, shut it you big baby. Be thankful I made you some clothes. It wasn’t easy.” A funny expression twists his face, looking like a cross between embarrassment and exasperation.

Taiju nods and heads down near the base of the tree, ripping off the leaf skirt and gently putting the pelt on, feeling how soft it is as he puts his arms through the sleeveless top, admiring the stitching running along the bottom. The next is the skirt-like pelts he wraps around his waist, tying a strip of leather around his waist to hold it all together. Admiring himself, Taiju moves his arms and legs, bending them to test how they fit and feeling pleasantly surprised when they don’t pull or stretch.

A pair of leathers smack his face and he looks up to see Senkū smirking again.

“Put those on; your feet will shred if you keep walking barefoot.”

Grinning, Taiju picks up the leather shoes and slips them on, tying the rope to keep them from slipping. He flies up to the hut and blinks when he finds Senkū setting up a torch on the deck.

“Why do you need to light the torch?”

Senkū frowns, looking out into the darkness as wind rushes through the trees. Taiju takes the time to close the tarp keeping the entryway clear, noticing the faint shivers plaguing the other’s body.

“Wolves.”

Howling echoes in the distance and Senkū flinches, hand whipping back to take out a stone axe from his bigger pouch, gripping the handle so tightly it’s a wonder how the wood hasn’t splintered yet. His eyes grow dark and his face is set in a scowl but his shoulders shake slightly, the feathers of his wings shivering. Taiju tenses, alarm gripping his mind.

A fanged mouth snaps out of the shadows to bite at the deck, startling Taiju into stumbling backwards as faint glowing eyes fade away. Senkū snarls and thrusts the axe downwards, clipping a wolf’s muzzle and earning himself a pained whine. More growls surround the tree as Senkū glares at the dark, ears straining for another attack.

“Taiju, grab the spear at the back!”

“On it!” He scrambles to the corner of the hut, grabbing a lone spear with a reddish-hued stone knife attached to the wood. He grabs it and runs back to Senkū just in time to see him smack away a snarling wolf in the face, sending it tumbling down. Taiju watches in shock as Senkū then lunges, his axe impaling the skull of one wolf while another snaps its jaws at his legs, the boy hastily retracting with a flinch. Senkū growls and clips another with his axe, burying the sharp stone edge in a smaller wolf’s neck.

Taiju’s eyes sharpen as Senkū’s shivering increases, white feathers with green speckles puffing up. He roars and grabs Senkū, throwing him back from a particularly nasty wolf that nearly manages to get on the deck aiming for the boy’s arm. He thrusts the spear in hand to impale the animal in the shoulder, a howling whine silencing the growling of the rest.

Taiju hangs back, standing in front of Senkū as he brandishes the spear. The world falls eerily silent as they wait for the wolves’ next move.

A few whines break the silence before the soft padding of paws on grass is the last thing they hear from them. Taiju takes a gamble to peer over the edge of the deck to see if any remain but other than the one with the split skull lying dead on the ground, none of the others linger. He sighs with relief but then snaps his attention to Senkū, worry in his gut when the younger boy simply stares in space.

“Senkū? You okay, buddy?”

A shuddering breath leaves Senkū’s mouth, wings twitching and puffing up more. Taiju zeroes in on the wince on Senkū’s face when his wings twitch again.

“Senkū,” Taiju calls, voice low and calm. When Senkū gives him attention Taiju frowns. “I need answers.”

Senkū sighs, shoulders drooping. When his wings don’t exactly follow that action worry pools in his stomach.

“Senkū, please help me understand. Something is wrong and I know you’re aware of it. When I was still trapped in stone something happened to you that you’re refusing to tell me and I can tell it’s hurting you.”

The tall-haired boy looks away, a sheen of sweat beading at his forehead. “It’s nothing you, big oaf. I’m fine.

“You’re not fine. What happened to your leg?”

Taiju’s frown deepens when the teen remains silent, opting to drop his bloodied tools to stumble to his nest, curling on one half and palming his scar. Taiju waits a while and sighs, padding over to sit down on the empty half of the nest. He blinks and takes a minute to appreciate the way the nest is made before addressing his pressing issue with Senkū’s strange behavior, the light of the torch helping him catch Senkū’s eyes.

Senkū gives him a soulless stare, eyes as dark as aged wine without the spark they used to have.

They remain like that for what seems like a long time, Taiju breaking the stare in favor of studying him much more closely.

Senkū’s skin tone looks paler than usual, only visible when they reunited that afternoon and under torchlight it hasn’t improved. There are dark circles under Senkū’s eyes, a few scratches marking his jaw and neck, and the bandages over his arms is a strange fashion statement if Taiju ever saw one. The left leg with the scar on the calf is curled closer to Senkū’s body than the right, and the warm lighting makes it easy enough to tell that it isn’t too old. The old lichtenberg scars peeks from the high collar of his clothes with a dull shine. Then the wings, sitting worryingly still and tightly packed against Senkū’s back is something of an anomaly considering how addicted to flying Senkū is inclined to be. Nothing about their condition lessens that worry when he’d seen how unkempt the feathers are, how they’re in such disarray he’s surprised Senkū hasn’t had a conniption fit over how dirty his wings are at this point.

It's unfathomable how he’s letting them get this bad when he’s perfectly capable of preening them himself, come hell or high water.

"Senkū, you've never been the kind of person to look like that—not even after Hitoshi ripped some of your feathers out in middle school."

Senkū chuckles, the sound singing such an undertone of grief and loss that Taiju feels he's failed somehow; and looking at the shorter boy across from him under the dim light of the torch outside, curling into himself so tightly, he can see all of it, the tragedy clinging to his face like ink blots staining a once-flawless canvas.

"Senkū," Taiju whispers, dreadful fear burrowing deep in his heart. "What happened while I was gone?"

Senkū opens his mouth, words failing him only for his hand to cover it, and his shoulders shudder before a heart-wrenching sob shakes through his thin frame.

“Please,” he begs softly, “tell me what’s going on. I’m here now. You can trust me.”

“While you were sleeping,” Senkū rasps, “I woke up in the middle of spring, April 1st, and started cobbling together some tools and a campsite for me to survive. I had a plan and I was intending on finding you and Yuzuriha.”

Taiju scoots closer, hovering when he senses there’s more Senkū hasn’t told him yet.

“It was nearing dusk when I tried to fly to a branch to sleep for the night, but I… my wings…”

Taiju listens raptly, jolting when Senkū hesitates at the last part of his sentence.

“Your wings?” Taiju glances at them and raises a hand to brush through the plumage, remembering that the boy likes having his feathers smoothed over whenever stress frays his emotions.

Senkū flinches and sucks in a breath of air, leaning away from Taiju’s fingers as the feathers fluff up and shake in agitation.

Taiju retracts his hands as if he poisoned Senkū.

“You mean, back when we were in the sky—”

Senkū nods, hand rising to clutch at his shoulder. “I can’t fly anymore, Taiju. My wings are crippled. I can’t even move or open them more than a few inches before it gets too painful. Sometimes walking around makes them hurt, and trying to open them more than I can handle can cause me to lose consciousness.”

“No… don’t tell me you’re—”

“I’m _grounded_.”

Horror engulfs Taiju’s heart, ceasing his chest with such suddenness he almost feels as though he got whiplashed. The thought of Senkū, smiling, free, and belonging to the great skies above suddenly being grounded and chained by gravity is enough for sorrow to take hold, eyes burning fiercely as tears fight to well up. Taiju sucks in a breath and gently weaves his arms around Senkū, feeling thin shoulders shake beneath his hold as the boy buries his face in Taiju’s shoulder.

He hates that Senkū allows affectionate touches when he’s feeling such grief when normally he treats the kind touch as though it were covered in filth. The ominous feeling is palpable in the air as the cries of animals die off and the eerily silent sobs shaking through Senkū’s body is the only thing stopping Taiju from screaming to the world how unfair it is for taking away something so precious from Senkū.

When the moon dips from its highest point in the sky Senkū falls into a deep sleep, his body shutting down as Taiju sets him in the nest. The teen throws on multiple furs over both of them before settling in, curling a wing over Senkū out of protective instinct to keep him safe and warm.

“I’m so sorry, Senkū. For not being there when you needed me. I’ll take care of the heavy lifting from now on. You’re the brains like you’ve always said, and I’m the brawns! I’ll build whatever you’ll need so you can rest. You’ve done enough on your own, and when Yuzuriha breaks out we’ll be in this together! Trust me on this, Senkū.”

With that, Taiju goes to sleep, his last string of consciousness thinking of ways he can forage food for the both of them while Senkū rests.

_You can count on me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eagerly pours over and rewrites story plot points while laughing maniacally.*
> 
> Can't wait to write out Senkū using the clam to de-beard Taiju. That scene was hilarious.
> 
> Trivia: Nincompoop is a word originating from the Latin phrase "non compos mentes" which translates to "not of right mind". It was a legally used term in Britain during the 16th Century.
> 
> Sneak Peek:
> 
> _Taiju watches as Senkū sinks in the snow up to his waist, his face barely above the white surface with an unimpressed stare on his face. Taiju, on the other hand, continues to fly as he sets up the trap they needed to catch deer._
> 
> _"I hate you," Senkū mutters, voice muffled by the snow around him._
> 
> _"Maybe that's payback for the clam," Taiju grins and chuckles._
> 
> _Senkū sends him a glare with a vengeful glint in his ruby eyes._
> 
> _"Just you wait—I can perm your hair with a clam while you're asleep and maybe you'll wake up bald by the end of the week."_
> 
> _Taiju laughs at the threat as he continues to set up the trap, knotting the rope so it doesn't unravel. It's only when he flutters lower to Senkū's level that he realizes the other teen isn't laughing, staring at him dead in the eye with a blank expression. His smile falls._
> 
> _Ah, so he's being entirely serious. Maybe he shouldn't have laughed at Senkū's helplessness in the snow earlier._


	5. Reconnecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He sees Taiju eyeing him and sighs, knowing he can’t put off informing the oaf of anything else that happened in the last six months. Taiju would never leave him alone if he gives half-assed answers anyway and the doof knows him better than most people aside from Byakuya._
> 
> _“What do you want to know,” Senkū asks as he polishes off the bit of meat clinging to his portion of pork ribs._
> 
> _Taiju purses his lips before leveling the scarred leg with a serious stare, hands clenching on his stick._
> 
> _Of course that’s the first thing he’d ask._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies!
> 
> Profound apologies for the devastating delay - so much has happened in the last few weeks that it set back progress on this story. I know some of you may have been antsy waiting for Chapter 5 and I can proudly say - in all my sickly, snotty glory and cabin fever misery - that it's now published for your leisure. Again, I apologize for delaying and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please don't petrify me and punch me to pieces. :3

Sunlight kisses the dredges of slumber away as Taiju squints his eyes in the dimness of the hut, clearing his throat as a hand palms his face to wake himself up. Instead of a flat white ceiling he’s looking at wooden boards with flickers of light filtering through. He stares in confusion as he scratches his chest, pausing when he snags on his clothes. They feel different than the usual pajamas he wears.

Another thing that confuses him is the fact that he woke up on his own. Normally, Senkū or Byakuya would enter the room to dump a bucket of ice cold water on him to get him out of bed, but neither have done that yet, which he finds to be strange considering they are a pair of evil goblins in the morning. Looking to the side and catching sight of the nest and Senkū, the past day’s events return quickly and he closes his eyes as he slumps over, a wave of sorrow engulfing his being.

“I see… It wasn’t a dream after all. You really are…”

The strange creep of wrongness from last night’s revelations still lingers in the air, his mind latching onto it without prompting. His best friend was robbed of his wings, trapped on land where death waits at every turn.

_“It was nearing dusk when I tried to fly to a branch to sleep for the night, but I… my wings…”_

_“I'm **grounded**.”_

He shivers and shakes his head to make those chilling words go away, taking stock of his position in the nest in a bid to distract himself. He’s sprawled halfway out of the bedding, one wing dragging across the dusty floorboards while the other one drapes itself over Senkū like a fluffy blanket. The air is pleasantly warm with only a hint of the chill that crept in the previous night and Taiju sits up, yawning. Most of the furs keeping him warm pool at his waist in fuzzy waves, tickling the skin of his belly. He smacks his lips, face twisting in distaste from the dryness it leaves.

Palming his face to rid the bit of sleep trying to drag him back, he glances at the sliver of forest peeking through the tarp in surprise, taking in the soft gold glaze shining off the dew blanketing the reds and yellows.

“Morning already? It feels like the night went by too fast.”

A shuffle makes him look back to Senkū, who’s still sleeping quietly, curled in a ball under his wing with his face tense but peaceful with his cheek pressing into brown plumage. Several layers of furs bunch around him and Taiju hopes he won’t wake when he inevitably has to leave the hut to start the day.

A day that is radically different to what he’s used to. No more buildings, no people roaming around discussing the latest media scoop, no safe haven to return to every day after a long day of school—so much he’s taken for granted now gone. Nothing but a haze of memories to remember them by.

He vowed to help Senkū in any way he can, after all, but he wonders how the younger boy managed to face the sobering truth of humanity’s fate every day without another human face to confide his worries to.

Sighing he looks back to Senkū, raking his eyes over him as he props an arm over a raised knee. Other than the ghastly scar on his leg, the Lichtenberg scars covering a good portion of Senkū’s right side, and the disabled wings, he has no idea what else lies beneath the leather, what marks might be tracing the fragile skin that is too light for it to be normal, what internal damage may be inhibiting the boy’s day to day life. It hurts to see so little of what’s happened to his best friend in his absence, even if Senkū wishes to conceal it from him for his sake.

Taiju shivers a bit as a draft blows in from outside.

“It’s getting cold…” he notes, spotting the slight shine of frost coating the outer wooden boards.

Moving the mountain of fur pelts off his feet and carefully removing his wing from Senkū he piles the furs on the smaller boy, cocooning him like one would do to a cat with a blanket. Now only his hair and a closed eyelid peek out from the folds and Taiju restrains the urge to hug him when he nuzzles into the furs, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.

He cards a few fingers through Senkū’s hair and lets a fond smile stretch his lips as the younger boy's face relaxes, the stress lines between his brows softening.

Fluttering his wings, Taiju leaves the safety of the hut to bask in the early morning sun, stretching his arms and legs to prepare for the day ahead. He cracks his back and glides to the ground with a whisper of feathers, landing near the corpse of the wolf Senkū killed the night before with a minuscule amount of apprehension.

Its face is frozen in a vicious snarl, cloudy gold eyes with pupils as small as pinpricks as its jaws remain wide open, displaying the sharp teeth barely concealed by its lips. Taiju takes a moment to register its size, bigger than any regular wolf should look like, paws with dagger-like claws and rippling muscle beneath its fur. It looks like a more frightening version of a wolf mixed with a few traits from a bear and Taiju wonders if the species somehow developed new traits along the years.

Blood weeps from the jagged laceration carved into its brain, staining its rich brown fur crimson and exposing bits of gray matter.

The sight almost makes Taiju nauseous.

When Senkū killed it the night before, his face was unrecognizable to him. Never has he ever witnessed his best friend look as feral as he did in that one, harrowing moment in time and he prays to never see it again. Senkū isn’t meant to have such an expression. He’s supposed to be snarky and blunt, often abrasive when disturbed, but never wild or impulsive.

Taiju still has to have a long talk with him to figure out the missing blanks in the six months he’s missed. He’s only aware of the bare bones and that alone aggravates Taiju enough he wants to frown.

Shaking his head he flaps up to the hut and quietly fumbles around in search of a stone axe and a spear before heading out, finding them lying on a dried pelt in a neat line near the back where more baskets litter the floor. He grabs one of each and ties a few leather sacks to his belt in case he finds anything he can collect besides mushrooms and fruit, taking one large empty basket with straps for the arms. He stares at it and adjusts the straps to fit around his shoulders, maneuvering his wings to slip through. Carefully creeping outside with a final glance to his friend, he flutters to the ground and crouches near the dead wolf.

He pauses and brings hand to his chin. “I should let him know what I'm doing before I go. A message to tell him I'm foraging!”

He looks down and grins. The ground should be perfect and if he makes big enough letters Senkū is sure to notice without worrying about where he went should the scientist awaken in his absence.

He crouches and dips his fingers in the loose earth, writing a brief message alongside a loopy drawing of his own face, just to reassure that yes, it’s Taiju, and he isn’t far. Done with that, he takes the carcass and moves it near the firepit so they can skin it after Taiju returns.

He quickly sprints to the edge of the forest where he can take off without disturbing Senkū, double checking his things to make sure he doesn’t need to come back too soon before taking to the skies with a powerful snap of his wings.

The air feels slightly warm with the occasional bite of cold whipping his face, his feathers feeling out as he glides lower, curving his wings to drift along the currents with a bit of a wobble in his form. With only a few clouds shadowing the land Taiju thinks it’s the perfect time to get what he needs done.

Taiju’s first stop of the day is the camphor tree protecting Yuzuriha, wanting to see her for a moment before he starts foraging. He carefully touches down in front of her, gazing at her lovingly as he regales her with his latest findings, spotting some berries growing in the vicinity that he thinks Senkū might eat with relative ease once he finishes. He turns back to the statue and smiles, eyes alight with adoration.

“Hello again, Yuzuriha! I managed to find Senkū after I read his message. Can you believe he built this really big hut out of logs and vines? It’s really cool, and he did it all by himself! I would’ve helped if I was there, but…” he trails, his enthusiasm dimming.

_Thin shoulders shake in his hold, eerily silent sobs quake through Senkū’s body, wings tucked tightly against his back._

_“I'm **grounded**.”_

_The shaking is the only thing stopping Taiju from screaming to the world how unfair it is for taking away something so precious from Senkū._

Her statue is silent, but he gets the feeling she's watching even though the idea is silly.

“At first, I was overjoyed. He's _alive_! But, then he told me a bit about the six months he's been alone. Alone with no one there to talk to or help. He’s been hurt before—he said something about animals before wolves tried to attack us. Then he… he attacked them back. He killed one of them just like that! I’ve _never_ seen him act like that before. It scares me that there’s something even more wrong going on he won’t tell me about. Then he—he _broke down_ in my arms, and it _hurt_ to see him like that, Yuzu. I feel like I failed him, and he's been hurt because I wasn't there for him.”

A few birds squawk and fly off in the distance as wind rustles the trees and Taiju closes his eyes as the urge to cry nearly overwhelms him, like a tidal wave of emotions beating against the dam that is his control. He fights it, though not without a sniffle. 

“He's hurt bad. He has scars on his leg—he hasn't told me where that one came from, and—” he cards a hand through his hair. “I have a feeling there's so much more I'm missing. More than what Senkū is telling me, and I’m worried.”

Looking into her unseeing eyes, he feels the thrum of love and affection well in his heart, yet also the longing accompanying those wonderful feelings that never died in the thousands of years trapped in darkness. Yuzuriha’’s still trapped in her stone prison and Taiju was just lucky to have broken free not too long after Senkū did. He wonders if she’s sleeping or still fighting to stay awake. A small grin lights his face and he lightly hugs her, careful to not disturb her or else she might shift from her position. He wouldn’t want her to get damaged, now does he?

“It’s okay,” he nods. “I’ll wait for you. _We’ll_ wait for you. It wouldn’t be the same without you here keeping us in check, ha ha!”

He doesn't stay very long after saying those precious words, afraid something will happen to Senkū while he's sleeping alone in his hut. He gives Yuzuriha one last loving glance and turns to take off to the skies, face set in determination.

His second stop is the cliffside where he spent some time looking at the statues, but he finds nothing of use there, only rocks and the occasional squirrel. A few beats of his wings finds him in a grove with apples and berries and his face lights up. Though apples aren’t very filling he fills a fourth of his basket with them. Maybe Senkū can make juice out of them?

The berries are surprisingly still sweet even after 3,719 years, though when he spots what looks like a mutated lemon he bails when the intensely grotesque flavor nearly sears his tongue and cheeks.

Moving deeper into unknown territory, he wanders off to the denser part of the forest to check for food. His eyes squint and glare at the trees, pouting when he can’t spot anything edible through the canopy of warm colors blending together like a painting. He glides lower, feathers brushing leaves as he ducks under leaf-cover. When he finds a cluster of mushrooms, Taiju lands and stares at the bulbous red and white caps.

He tilts his head, questioning whether to pick them or not. “These are edible, right?” He honestly doesn't know; there are so many different varieties of mushrooms he's lost as to which are safe to eat. Though the one he holds _looks_ edible, it could be bad. He shrugs, deftly harvesting them, a wondrous grin spreading on his face as he recalls something from the Modern Era.

“Ooh! It looks like the mushrooms from Mario!”

These are definitely safe!

Senkū would definitely love the reference and his findings. Mushrooms are excellent for soups, and if he can find some more then he can help feed both of them a lot more than what Senkū has stored away. He gathers what he can grab, tossing his prizes in the basket much like a child does with their toys. His wings twitch and curl in delight when he finds some plants he vaguely remembers are edible, picking those to put in a separate pouch. Berries, eggs, and the occasional mushroom is picked and packed away in his ever-growing basket as he hums a tune to match his pace.

Then a thought comes up that has him pause in his foraging frenzy.

_Senkū will be sleeping a lot, and without a doctor he can’t get medicine! I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get sick!_

Three-quarters of a basket full and Taiju heads to the river, dismissing the idea of visiting the beach even though it’s not very far from their campsite. He swoops down to catch fish, going through trial and error to catch two decent-sized Iwame trout. He gently deposits them in the basket and scours the riverside for anything else he can find.

Hearing a squeal, his head snaps over to a group of boars, sniffling along the ground at a slow pace. He slowly crouches and sits the basket down before springing with a snap of feathers and snatching a piglet, grabbing the basket to take off before he’s gored by the adult boars’ tusks.

“I’m sorry, but my friend needs this!”

By the time he fills the basket and two of his three pouches he calls it a day to return to camp, pride swelling in his chest as he carefully balances his bounty while keeping steady course through the winds, the sun at its highest point painting his shadow on the earth. He dives once the camp is in sight.

“There’s the camp!” He grins, flapping harder as gravity helps him build speed. That grin promptly drops when he sees a head of white and green peeking through the trees, arms full of logs. “Senkū? Why is he awake?!”

A few wing thrusts propels him forward, spooking Senkū so much he drops his load with a yell. Taiju lands with a rumble and he skids to a stop, kicking up dust and turning around with a whiplash to stare at Senkū who looks back with feathers in such disarray they look more like a fuzzy ball put through a drier.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Senkū! I was trying to get back as fast as I could before you woke up!”

Senkū stares at him with an intense gaze, shadows lurking in ruby eyes, shoulders tense and hunched forward, a hand grasping the handle of his sheathed stone axe. He seems to snap out of it when he blinks and the dark glaze lightens from his eyes when something akin to relief overcomes them. Senkū sighs as he lets go of the axe’s handle, his feathers gradually smoothing out.

“ _Don't_ —” Senkū begins, palming his face. “Don’t do that, Taiju.”

“Right,” Taiju nods, looking away as guilt floods his veins. He looks back up when he hears shuffling and finds Senkū attempting to pile the wood back in his arms. He shoots up and lowers his basket, grabbing the wood from Senkū’s grasp to haul on a muscled shoulder. He looks down at Senkū, the sun accenting the fact that he’s breathing a little harder than normal, the trembling from his shoulders and arms all too visible even to Taiju. It makes Taiju’s chest tighten. Senkū is trying too hard, so hard that he’s hurting himself in the process. If he doesn’t stop the bullheaded teen he’ll destroy himself soon enough.

“Senkū, why are you pushing yourself? I can do it for you!”

Senkū looks away with a pinched brow, eyes directing themselves away from the taller teen.

Taiju frowns. “I told you yesterday, Senkū—no matter what happens, I’m here to help. You know you can trust me.”

An irritated growl leaves Senkū’s throat, which Taiju easily translates into “I have no idea how to say something without sounding like an asshole, but please leave me the hell alone” growl. Of course, he has no intention of letting the boy get away with overexerting himself beyond what he's gone through for six months already. If he has the choice, Taiju would rather tie him in rope and force him to sleep in the safety of the hut.

If bubblewrap still existed he would use it on Senkū and then he’d tie him down to rest for a few days.

“I still have things to get done, you big oaf. I can’t lie around, else no progress can be made.”

“Senkū, you’ve done _enough_ already. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I’m the brawns after all!” He grins excitedly at Senkū who looks like he wants nothing more than to kick him.

“You know, I’ll happily kick your ass once I actually have the capacity to form a coherent thought process,” he growls. He stares at Taiju with a grimace. The taller teen winces in turn. Then Senkū sighs. He rests his hands on his hips and leans forward slightly, causing Taiju to blink at the unfamiliar posture.

Senkū points at Taiju with a frown. “Just a nap. Otherwise nothing gets done. I doubt you’ll even give me a choice.”

Taiju grins. “I have no idea what the first part means in general but you’re right, I’m not letting you get away with overworking yourself.”

Rudely, Senkū scoffs. “I’ll live.”

Taiju ignores the barb and protests, eyes wide in concern. “ _Senkū_ , that might be the case but you’re shaking! Six months? Making all this? It’s too much!”

“Shut up,” Senkū drawls, rubbing an ear, but his eyebags look darker and his eyes take an unfocused glaze as he sluggishly walks away, heading toward a basket filled with herbs. Taiju tags along, arms reaching out for him in case the teen collapses.

“Senkū, please, take a break.”

“I said no.”

“At least rest for a bit?”

“I’ve already rested enough last night, Taiju. Don’t talk me out of it.”

Taiju frowns, dropping his hands as Senkū waddles over to his lab. Clenching his hands, he approaches Senkū with swift strides and scoops the startled scientist in one move, cradling him in his arms. Ignoring the teen’s squirming, he marches away from the lab to fly up to the hut.

“Sorry, but I’m not watching you hurt yourself when you need to rest. A few hours of sleep isn’t enough.”

“You dunderheaded amoeba! Let me down!”

Taiju pauses and looks at Senkū incredulously.

A _dunderheaded_ amoeba?! Of all the blunt name-calling and insults that swirl in Senkū’s head, _that_ has to be the tamest one by far! A pit of worry digs in his stomach as Senkū tries to ignore Taiju.

“You really need to sleep if you’re using _that_ old insult, Senkū.”

“Taiju…” Senkū growls out, scowling at him as Taiju enters the hut to deposit him into the nest.

“No, I’m serious,” Taiju replies as he sits with his legs crossed, facing Senkū who sits similarly on a mound of furs. “If you’re using an insult from 5th grade then you’re feeling worse than you actually are.”

“And what does that have to entail? I am more than capable in surviving,” Senkū hisses, sounding as if Taiju offended him.

“And I know that,” Taiju nods, unruffled even as Senkū’s agitation rises. Grinning, Taiju lifts a hand to card through gravity-defying locks as fondness makes itself known.

Senkū stills as Taiju stares back, a wall of stubborn determination and concern keeping him there. He then looks at his arms, finding them shaking and trembling at the slightest twitch of a muscle. He sighs and rubs his forehead, looking even more tired as his shoulders drop. Taiju takes it as his win when the teen doesn’t protest any further.

* * *

Sunset soon approaches, the glazing orange light hiking higher up trees as time crawls on. Taiju busies himself with gathering firewood while Senkū slumbers on, with firm orders to wake him once he sets up the fire in the pit. Despite more protests from the taller boy, Senkū adamantly demanded to be awoken by dinnertime so he can spare themselves from Taiju’s cooking. Hilariously enough, they both know Senkū can be just as bad. The funniest memory in relation to Senkū’s inability to cook beyond simple recipes is of the cake he tried to bake for Byakuya one time when he was 13, and the thing that emerged from the oven looked more like a melted mummy dripping in chocolate than a two-layered cake.

Taiju shivers as the feeling of nausea he experienced returns with full force. Dark times, those were.

He finds enough wood to set up the pit once the sun bridges the horizon, its light almost entirely gone as the skies bleed blood-orange, propping the logs together and tying it all with rope to keep them upright. He pauses and drags over a few of the food baskets to sit near the log Senkū uses to sit on.

“There,” Taiju smiles as he takes in his handiwork, nodding to himself. Then he remembers he needs to wake Senkū or he’d get cranky. “Oh, I better wake up Senkū…”

Flying up to the hut, he parts the tarp and quietly pads inside, finding Senkū hiding beneath the mound of furs where Taiju last left him. The atmosphere is—for a lack of a better word—tense, somewhat oppressive yet feeling like a coiled spring is about to set off. His feathers fluff a little in apprehension yet he doesn’t quite know as to why.

Now for the hard part. With how strange Senkū’s behavior is compared to before, he has no indication as to whether or not he will react negatively. Usually, he simply jumps on the teen without a lick of remorse, indulging himself to produce a seething Senkū who’ll start swearing like a sailor when caught off guard. However, he doesn’t know how that will affect him now and he’s hesitant on what approach would be the least startling.

He settles for poking.

Slowly, Taiju creeps close to the nest and reaches over the fur mound, peeling away a few of them to see the teen’s face, eyes firmly closed, lips settled in a scowl.

Okay, that’s normal.

Feeling bold, he waits a few seconds, debating whether or not this is a good idea before he decides to just do it and get Senkū out of the nest. He carefully pokes Senkū’s cheek and waits, frowning when he only gets a low growl. A warning to back off. Taiju frowns before poking him much more firmly and the next second he finds himself slamming into the floor, something hard and sharp crushing his throat. He looks down to find unfocused red eyes glaring into the depths of his soul.

“Senkū! Calm down, it’s me! Taiju!”

Senkū stutters to a halt, his eyes widening as the fog of sleep slips away. He looks at Taiju like he suddenly appeared out of thin air before noticing the chert dagger crushing the taller teen’s throat. He retracts the dagger and stumbles back, legs giving away from shock. Taiju sits up in alarm as Senkū cries out, his feathers puffing out as he roughly lands on his side at the last second. Taiju notices he’s avoided falling directly on his left wing.

“Hey,” Taiju whispers, hands reaching out to comfort Senkū as the boy sits up, rubbing his side. His ruby eyes stare at him with a well of remorse and self-loathing that Taiju’s chest tightens. 

“It’s okay. It’s just me.”

Senkū narrows his eyes and glares down at the floor, shoulders hiking up to his ears.

This, unfortunately, is _not_ normal.

They sit on the floor in silence for a few minutes, Senkū recovering from the rapid spell of emotions while Taiju summons up the confidence to apologize, to make up for scaring the scientist more than he realizes before the awkwardness turns into something worse. When Senkū’s eyes drag themselves back to match his gaze, Taiju offers a small smile, one that, for all its sincerity, is chipping slightly at the edges. Senkū frowns, gaze all-knowing even if he doesn’t utter a word.

Just as Senkū can’t hide anything from Taiju, the same applies to him hiding anything from Senkū—the dilemma to this dynamic, however, are the changes in Senkū that developed during his isolated half-year that proves to make even interactions hard to overcome. Six months apart, and only half of Senkū is the same as the old one.

Taiju so desperately wants to dismiss the awkward air between them.

“What is it, Taiju?”

Taiju snaps to attention, wincing at the drowsiness that drags Senkū’s words down. He sighs and rubs his head.

“You wanted me to wake you up before the sun goes all the way down—I just didn’t think you’d react the way you did. I thought poking you would’ve been alright.”

Senkū sighs and cracks his neck, ignoring how Taiju raises an eyebrow at the action. “Well, better I wake up and get started on dinner. Whatever questions you have will be answered later.”

Taiju furrows his brows at the dejected, tired tone. “You don’t need to tell me everything if it makes you uncomfortable, Senkū. I won’t force you on that.”

Senkū sighs and picks himself off the ground, wings fluffing up in irritation before smoothing over. He glances at Taiju looking more tired than the previous night, if that’s possible.

Taiju immediately notices the crease in between his brows, there one second and gone the next. Even from just his feathers fluffing up it seems to hurt him enough to subtly react and Taiju doesn’t know how to soothe his best friend’s pain, not when he is just as clueless as to why they became that way. He knows exactly when Senkū found out, but neither know how they became this way or what caused it. For the time being, Senkū will need protection even if the younger boy loathes being coddled.

“Right, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just not in the best condition as of right now.”

Taiju feels the sting of sorrow in his heart hearing those words. They sound too much like accepting one’s fate with defeat; something Senkū isn’t known for in all the years they’ve known each other, and it’s this moment that he truly takes in Senkū’s appearance—without the rose-tinted glasses comprising of the hope his friend hasn’t been through death-defying danger and the looming fact that Senkū may have suffered damage that may be irreparable. He looks much skinnier despite his musculature, and he’s seen how his limbs tremble with the simple effort of holding an axe or walking a short distance without wobbling. The worrying part in all this is the usual lack of stamina, only now it seems to be worse than before.

It scares him to think that Senkū may as well have been wasting away even though he’s done his best to provide for himself.

“Stop giving me those pitying looks, oaf. It’s 10 billion percent pissing me off.”

Taiju flushes.

Another sigh leaves Senkū. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look like you’re well enough. I can cook tonight if it helps.”

Senkū lets out a snort as he glances away, shoulders hiking. Taiju blinks, wondering why the teen is acting that way before it dawns on him and he whines loudly.

“Oh c’mon, Senkū—don’t be so mean!” He tries to snag Senkū by the collar but the smaller teen ducks, bright locks of hair slipping through his fingers.

The shorter teen snorts even more. “Yeah, no. Ain’t havin’ it.” He evades Taiju’s reach to slither through the opening, dodging Taiju’s swiping as the taller boy tries to stop him, cheeks flushing bright pink as Senkū snorts louder.

“I’m not that bad! I’ve never burned mushrooms!”

“Yes, you have! You nearly burned down our kitchen just _boiling_ water! How is it possible that a human being is even capable of pulling off such a feat when it’s only heating up water?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. It was one time!”

“One time too many! I got in trouble because of you,” Senkū groans as he ducks beneath a tree root leaving Taiju to pause and blink from sheer astonishment.

“What the—?”

“Too slow, Taiju.” Seeing the other pop out from the other side with a vulpine grin, his eyes free of the dark shadows that clung to them mere moments ago, Taiju doesn’t stay frozen for long, grinning and flaring his wings. He laughs when Senkū loses the grin to shake his head.

“No—no, no. Taiju, don’t you even dare—!”

Taiju swoops up and then sharply dives to pluck Senkū from the ground, laughing when the scientist threatens to throat-punch him for the sheer audacity of manhandling him again. Taiju yelps when he almost drops Senkū, who growls and increases his wiggling. 

“Relax, Senkū—it’s a nice night. Please don’t get mad?”

“It would be nice if you didn’t hold me like some _wretched_ damsel!”

Taiju pouts. “But then who’d be your knight in shining armor?”

Senkū rolls his eyes and mock-gags. “The Michelin Man,” he throws back, sarcasm imbued in every word.

Taiju laughs aloud, feeling satisfaction that the boy isn’t dwelling in the recesses of his mind. In fact, he feels pride for distracting him long enough for some of his snark to temporarily reemerge. He holds Senkū tighter and settles for a slow glide around the fire a few meters from the ground, under the faint glow of the moon and the blinking of stars.

“Then I’ll just have to be there so you don’t get run over!”

* * *

Senkū perseveres for a few minutes more until he stops hitting Taiju soon after the stupid comment made itself known, not wanting to admit his hits are more or less toddler taps against the powerful ridges that are his muscles. He scowls and crosses his arms making no mention to Taiju that the position he’s in is rather undignified, if a bit mortifying.

“Whatever,” Senkū breathes out, his eyes unwittingly flicking upwards at the emerging stars and constellations dotting the vast darkness that is space, blinking at him with their soft, flickering lights. He can vaguely make out the distant orange dot that is Mars and he wonders, if under different circumstances, humanity would have colonized Mars and several other planets by the time the 5,700th year had come by. What technologies could have been discovered or created that would have furthered humanity's development. It leaves a feeling similar to mourning a loss, and even though he wouldn't've been alive to see it, it still leaves a bitterness centered around the Green Light and the possibility of its activation being caused by some catalyst or person.

Yet, he has no answers for his queries—only hypotheses and nothing to cross-reference them.

When they land by the firepit, Senkū blinks to get out of his head, wiggling himself out of Taiju’s hold with a growl. He ignores Taiju’s boastful laugh when his wings fluff up indignantly.

With Taiju watching over him, he focuses on sticking mushrooms on sticks when he catches something red and white peeking out from the rest of the mushrooms.

Well, isn’t _that_ suspicious.

He yanks the basket closer and sits down, idly dragging two more baskets on either side of him. Taiju watches with confusion until he squawks as Senkū tosses some mushrooms in the “bad” pile, and the good ones on the other pile.

“Wait—why are you throwing most of them away?!”

“Idiot! You, simply put, tossed wolfsbane, fly agaric, and amanita virosa in this basket! Are you _trying to off me_?! These are poisonous to a human—and, no, the fly agaric, despite its coloring, is not a mushroom similar to the one you find in _Mario_! The amanita virosa is especially toxic and will target our kidneys and nervous system, and eating the wolfsbane can lead to hypotension, sinus bradycardia, and ventricular arrhythmias!”

Taiju silently lowers the hand that was steadily rising, feeling embarrassment for not recognizing the right kind of mushrooms that are safe to ingest. In all fairness, he had no idea it was poisonous only because they played Mario games between experiments.

Senkū sighs and smoothes out his irritation, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders looking even more exhausted than he has been all day.

“It’s fine; soon enough you’ll grasp which ones are edible and which ones are poisonous. I doubt you’ll go and blindly eat a mushroom without questioning if it’s edible after I smack some sense into you,” Senkū mutters as he quirks a brow at Taiju.

“R-Right, I won’t,” the teen stutters, cheeks flushing brightly enough that Senkū considers labeling him a .

“Good.”

When everything is cooked and peppered with salt, he bears witness to Taiju happily tearing apart the piglet he hunted, roasted to perfection. He grins at the little bag of salt he prizes so much sitting beside his feet. Getting it from the ocean was difficult but it was well worth the trouble to collect.

The comfortable silence between them is only interrupted by the gentle sway of leaves from the winds coming from the east, stars blinking merrily above them. It gives him the feeling that they aren't completely alone even if the sentiment is illogically cheesy.

He sees Taiju eyeing him and sighs, knowing he can’t put off informing the oaf of anything else that happened in the last six months. Taiju would never leave him alone if he gives half-assed answers anyway and the doof knows him better than most people aside from Byakuya.

“What do you want to know,” Senkū asks as he polishes off the bit of meat clinging to his portion of pork ribs.

Taiju purses his lips before leveling the scarred leg with a serious stare, hands clenching on his stick.

Of course that’s the first thing he’d ask.

“Where did that scar come from? You’ve never had it before and you refused to tell me last night.”

Shutting his eyes for a moment, he brushes away to the images of clouded gold eyes and the blossoming of red on tawny fur, wishing for the phantom pain to never resurface. It takes a moment to collect himself even as his leg twinges against his wishes, a slow burn blossoming even if nothing is pressed against it.

“Lion attack.”

Taiju’s breath hitches, eyes as big as dinner plates.

“It happened at the end of the first week. I was careless, too focused on finishing the camp when it ambushed me during a thunderstorm. Its size was proportionally too large for it to be a regular lion from the Modern Era, so the species must have evolved to become even larger. As to why it was alone, it’s because it was young, at least 2 years of age and well above 1.5 meters at the shoulder.”

Taiju gulps, appetite steadily vanishing as his attention latches onto the emotions flitting across Senkū’s face.

“I tried to run from it but I slipped on mud. It caught up to me before I could grab a spear and it bit into my leg, tearing through the calf. Just when it was about to kill me it lunged and…” he trails off, furrowing his brows as he looks into the fire. ”I honestly thought I was going to die. I must’ve been holding on to my knife when it pierced its chest. It stopped it from killing me, but it was too close. If circumstances were different I wouldn’t be here at all, not one millimeter.”

Taiju, horrified and close to tears, looks at the scar in a new, possibly negative light. Senkū tries to push away the cynical words swimming in his head.

“What about your wings,” he asks, voice small and tentative. His wings tuck against his sides in a rather hesitant manner, the brown plumage nearly blending perfectly with his leather clothes.

Senkū closes his eyes, face contorting with pain as the memory from the river comes back full force, its striking clarity only enhancing the anguished howls that never stopped haunting his waking thoughts since the ugly truth was revealed. He looks at the ridges of his wings peeking over his shoulders. The feathers are a pale imitation of their once-brilliant colors, the grime masking them to look like he dragged himself through a sewer system and then soot-ridden alleyways in a city slum. The thought alone sends shivers of disgust to roil in his chest.

“I still have no conclusive evidence as to why they’re the way they are. As of right now, I can’t do anything with them. It hurts too much to move them, let alone clean them. Even just you touching them is too much for me to handle.”

He turns away, not wanting to touch on more of the subject, sore and humiliating as it is. Taiju says nothing in return, opting to stare at the fire as he reaches out to take a stick with a roasted mushroom.

Senkū’s eyes soften, his feathers fluffing up as he breathes deep and settle back in place when he lets it all air out with a hefty sigh. He scoots closer and twists his waist to reach for Taiju’s right wing and gently unfurling it open. He feels the telltale twitch telling him Taiju is frozen, waiting to see what he’ll do. With a small smile, he glides his fingers through the earthy plumage dotted with dark brown on the secondaries.

“Senkū?”

“You know, I knew you were still alive,” the younger says, easily slipping his skilled fingers through each nook of plumed muscle to pull out twigs, leaves, and the occasional crust of dried dirt settled between the downy barbs and the vanes, careful to gently pry the dirt away from the sensitive calamus so that Taiju isn’t feeling discomfort. “Every day I visited you in the cave, hoping to see you stupidly smiling and waving at me like a maniac soon after digging you up—but every day I’d return to the hut and try again the next day. For nearly six months I was hoping to see you out and about, and now you are. I guess you can say that I missed you.”

Senkū gradually feels himself relaxing as his fingers mindlessly clean every feather, preening them to look shinier and cleaner than they’ve ever been and allowing that wonderful shade of hickory to break off from the general brown Taiju usually sports, muscles finally losing the edge of conscious alertness that built up from six months to the mercy of predators. He doesn’t realize he’s soon humming a soft tune as Senkū’s fingers finish preening the right wing and then focus their attention on his left, Taiju melting into him with a pleased croon, a droopy smile on his face as his feathers curl pleasantly.

“I knew that you wouldn’t let some stupid petrification beam stop you from confessing to Yuzuriha at the height of your resolve, when you stopped pussy-footing around and actually got your ass in gear. You’re too much of a man to let that slide even after thousands of years trapped in stone.”

He grins, done with preening Taiju’s wings and taking pride in the way they glisten just from the light alone. Taiju sits up straight, determination oozing from his being.

“So,” Senkū begins, eyes alight in the glow of the roaring fire. “You’ve already found her, now all we need to do is to free her. You wouldn’t leave her like that, would you?”

Taiju purses his lips and stands, muscles flexing as his eyes shine like his own. He grins, bright with an obscene amount of enthusiasm.

“You’re absolutely right, Senkū.”

Senkū stares mutely even as his eyes light up, bringing further brightness to Taiju’s smile that he finds almost unnerving how bright it is. Like small miniature balls of intense light one would expect to find in a cradle of newborn stars. Senkū glances away first, a snicker escaping him. Taiju deflates and whines about it.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

Senkū chuckles a bit more at his cluelessness.

It’s not that he’s being mean, he just can’t help it.

“Your enthusiasm is like the sun, Taiju. You’re big and bright, and it hurts just looking at you. Dim yourself down, will ya?”

Taiju’s face turns blank. For a moment Senkū watches with an awkward shuffle before the teen snaps out of it with the loudest, most obnoxious whine he’s ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“ _Senkū_ , that’s so _mean_!”

“I already told you, I ain’t bein’ mean!”

* * *

Taiju trudges through the brush, hands carefully pulling away weeds and grass to check for eggs or mushrooms. The sun is high in the sky with few clouds dotting the sky, winds low and gentle. The temperature is warmer than the day before and the tall teen is just glad it isn’t chilly. He left Senkū sleeping away in their hut, taking the opportunity to forage as there isn’t much else to occupy himself without a project to work on.

Rifling through a bush, his hands brush against something bulbous. Blinking, he parts twining vines and leaves to gaze upon some wild grapes growing in abundance and joy erupts at the sight of something familiar.

“Oh! These are wild grapes!” He gingerly plucks a few from the vine and pops them in his mouth, just waiting for the sweet flavor to grace his tongue. As he bites into one, a sharp, acrid flavor assaults his taste buds and his face scrunches up, causing him to spit out the grapes as tears well in his eyes.

Oh good lord, what were those made out of? The taste is so rancid he feels like puking!

“I never expected them to taste so bad,” Taiju exclaims, tearing off a large leaf to scrub the taste from his tongue. It bears little success.

Looking at the grapes still hanging from the vines, he sighs and resigns himself to harvesting them, knowing that at some point Senkū might have a need for them. He takes enough to fill a quarter of his basket, leaving the bush for later hunts even if their taste is similar to overly bitter lemons and something else he can’t really put a finger on. Walking up a trodden path and pausing at a familiar scene, he stutters to a stop, feeling goosebumps rise along the bare skin of his arms as he recalls walking among the multitude of stone statues expressing haunting looks staring him down just yesterday.

“This cave…” Taiju whispers, gently palming the entrance as he ventures inside, the same pungent scent that greeted him upon awakening assaults his nose again, and his eyes water at the smell.

Then he spots a clay pot sitting on the straw bed, its contents being the liquid that drips from the ceiling. Taiju takes a moment to stare before excitement courses through him so intensely his wings snap open and his feathers wiggle.

“Whoa! Is there someone else that broke free? I wonder if they left this here.”

“No one else woke up and that would be me that left the pot, you friggin’ moron.”

Taiju yelps. His wings snap shut with a muted slap and he turns around to find Senkū rubbing the back of his neck. His face shows how unimpressed he is at Taiju’s antics.

“So then—that would mean we really are the only ones alive?”

“‘Fraid so; and repopulating humanity back to where it was is our biggest priority.”

Taiju contemplates the answer and looks at Senkū, his back to him, long white wings lying tucked at his back and he feels his own wings twinge in sympathy when he eyes the longer primaries scraping along the cave floor.

“So, how is that going to work? It’s only the two of us!”

“You really think it takes two dudes to revive a whole species, Taiju? That’s lazy and simply illogical even for you,” Senkū groans. 

Taiju flushes and redirects his gaze.

“I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

“That aside, it’s been over 3,700 years since the world was petrified,” Senkū says as he waves dismissively, tired eyes squinting as he picks up a stone fragment. “What is the catalyst that allowed us to break free, other than the consumption of energy through brain activity? 

“Maybe it went bad?” Taiju proposes, a finger to his chin, wings perking over his shoulders.

Senkū shakes his head and replies, “I’ve checked for wear and tear, and that isn’t the case; every statue, no matter how much time’s passed or how much damage they acquire bears no flesh. The statues are entirely made of stone.” Senkū breathes out tiredly, staring at the fragment in concentration. “Whatever this mineral is isn’t something I’m familiar with despite looking like regular stone. What I find even more strange is the fact that after 3,718 years we’ve broken out with only a half-year span between each other.”

“I’m glad I was able to break out yesterday but I wish I could’ve broken out sooner. You wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Glad to know, Taiju. But I’m alive and you’re here now. Stop worrying.”

Taiju doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop worrying about the possibility of injury when it concerns Senkū, whose thin frame can barely keep up with a decent breeze lately.

“Right,” he frowns. “So, what does this mean for the stone pieces?

Senkū grins, a wicked edge to it as he bears his teeth, an idea no doubt forming in his head. Taiju would consider himself a bit strange for feeling comforted at such a face if he were any other person.

“It means there’s a logical, rational explanation that explains why we broke out at nearly the same time.” He then points to a spot with a noticeable dip in the earth, a bit of grass growing from the soil. “While you were almost completely buried in dirt, I was laying on the ground not far from you. We may have been washed away from the school before ending up here.”

Taiju frowns and shivers at the thought of being buried in the ground. “You dug me out? Was that why I was in the cave?”

“Yeah, but getting you out of the ditch and in the cave was an excruciating endeavor. I had to partially carry you on my back and out of the ditch to get you in the cave. I didn’t want you getting damaged before you could revive.”

Guilt swells in Taiju’s chest at the thought that he caused Senkū pain but the smaller teen waves him off when he tries to hug him.

“I’m fine, you wingnut.”

“Still! I’m very sorry!” He snaps a 90° angled bow, arms stiff to his sides. He ignores how Senkū chokes awkwardly at the gesture. “You didn’t have to drag me all that way just to keep me safe!”

“Taiju, I don’t care if you’d have preferred it, not one millimeter was I going to leave you out in the open and potentially get damaged!” Senkū exclaims, red eyes wide with disbelief.

Taiju gasps as Senkū growls, hitting the side of the cave in frustration. Small pieces of dirt fall from the ceiling from the impact.

“Any damage that befalls a statue could potentially result in permanent death! I wasn’t going to risk it with you!”

Taiju straightens and recoils at the emotions packing Senkū’s words, feeling the guilt increase when he sees ruby eyes glittering with unshed tears. He closes his eyes and looks away, opening them a moment later when Senkū composes himself before he responds with as much rational thought he can muster.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t take your feelings into consideration. I just don’t want you to get hurt, Senkū.”

The smaller teen snorts out a chuckle and Taiju feels the suffocating knot in his chest loosen a bit. “I know you mean well but it really isn’t needed. It’s done and you can’t change that. Now, let’s focus on what’s important. See the liquid dripping from the ceiling?”

“Yes?”

“That’s nitric acid—fluid created from the droppings of the bats living inside,” Senkū mutters as he swaps the full pot with an empty one.

Taiju stares at the ceiling with wide eyes. “So, what does that do? Wait—was I under that before waking up?!”

“Yep,” Senkū says as he cleans an ear out, ignoring the way Taiju shivers in disgust. He walks back out with the pot in hand. “I’ll show you back at camp. Just fly us there.”

Taiju nods and carefully lifts him into his arms, grinning at the embarrassed grimace contorting Senkū’s face. He opens his wings and shakes them, the feathers fluttering before he brings them down with a loud snap, dust kicking up from their takeoff. Taiju whoops as he soars, holding Senkū close as he speeds his way to camp with a steady glide. He hears Senkū give a sigh and looks down to briefly catch a flash of longing in those ruby eyes, but the teen turns his face to look at the scenery beneath them before Taiju can’t fully comprehend what he just saw.

He feels a well of sadness at what he guesses is Senkū feeling immense longing for flying, the desire palpable enough he can feel those white wings straining to move.

Senkū gives him no indication that the movements are hurting him and he wonders if it’s a deliberate effort to keep him in the dark.

When they reach camp Senkū takes the time to show Taiju the swallow statues he’s experimented on besides securing shelter and food, but during testing they come across a roadblock on de-petrifying the swallows, the pair find themselves at block.

“I’ve tried every method I could think of to break them free, but nothing works. If I had anything close to industrial-strength etching solutions, like nital, I’d be set. The only problem with that is we lack alcohol and there aren’t any stores around anymore.”

Taiju blinks and brightens, his wings fluttering open with excitement. He knows exactly what they need!

* * *

The coming days that follow them are a much more pleasant experience for Senkū now that Taiju takes up the responsibility of the manual labor, foraging even deeper into the wild to look for more than simple mushrooms and herbs while he focuses on experimenting for a cure and de-petrifying the swallows he and Taiju collect throughout the area.

They also added protective measures in the form of fences with spearheads attached for barbs around the perimeter of their camp, an improvement towards keeping themselves alive when nightfall blankets the earth. Taiju claims it’s more for Senkū’s wellbeing than his own.

The third week after Taiju’s awakening, Senkū feels like he’s crashing. The sensation of weightlessness spreading throughout his body is disorienting enough he feels like he’s losing his balance, feeling the need to curl in a ball in his nest even though his brain screams the urge to continue, further their slow progress towards modern human science even at the cost of his health, but his body can’t take much more. It’s gone beyond what it can take even with breaks and power naps in between building projects and planning their course to restore humanity with as little incidents as humanly possible.

Then a week into November, he collapses.

After Taiju finds him and deposits him in the hut he decides to put his foot down and force the teen to rest while he takes care of the camp, hovering over him like some hyper-vigilant mother-hen hyped up on norepinephrine after he’s been restricted to resting in his hut, bored to tears. When he’s not occupying his racing thoughts with inner complaints of Taiju’s mothering, he’s often counting, or even waking up from a daze just to find Taiju kneeling in front of him with fear in his eyes.

He finds out Taiju finds it horrifying. He counts in a daze, locked away in his mind and oblivious to the world around him. He finds he can understand why Taiju feels the need to slap him just to snap him out of it.

He slowly finds he’s become restless from hours spent inside. Once winter begins its quest to blanket the land in snow in early November, slumber evades Senkū almost entirely. Be it nightmares or the steadily dropping temperatures, his body is definitely not appreciating the lack of rest. Taiju, seeing his tumultuous struggle with this problem, goes hunting one day and returns with three dead wolves, to which Senkū happily skins and cuts up to use for later, using their furs to make another makeshift fur blanket. Even with the blanket, Taiju takes to curling his wings around Senkū when the chill gnaws at his skin, robbing his toes and fingers of any shred of warmth.

As December comes, Senkū finds he feels much safer living in this Stone World with Taiju vigilantly patrolling their clearing and checking on the fences every now and then, often deterring predators before they even reach the edge of the forest. His efforts in keeping them both fed often ends with Taiju flying farther from camp, spending an average of four hours just hunting for deer. With fruit and nuts unavailable, Taiju has no choice but to double up on hunting even though wildlife is scarce; it’s a freezing Senkū whispering to himself one night that he doesn’t want to starve again, curled as he is beneath the growing mound of furs and leathers, oblivious to Taiju standing in the doorway.

Taiju, distraught, triples his efforts, flying faster than he usually would just to find food and is rewarded with a herd of deer more than 20km away from camp. He manages to get three before he returns with his hoard, surprising Senkū with his desire to help keep each other well fed throughout the winter.

On one particular day, the duo find themselves desperate enough to set traps to help ease the burden of hunting from Taiju’s shoulders. The taller boy, now sporting a thick beard, is the only one able to take flight and reach heights Senkū currently can’t reach.

Taiju grasps the bark of a thin tree to bend it downwards so the younger boy can tie rope around the top, straining himself to focus on his task rather than comb the landscape for lingering dangers. As his cold fingers loop the rope and tighten it on the tree he winces when he pulls harder to make it bend. Taiju stops him with a frown, concern in his eyes.

Senkū rolls his eyes and trudges forward, searching for another tree to set up their second trap. “Wing twitched.”

Taiju’s eyes widen a bit before he nods with a hum.

Senkū sighs at the dim reaction.

He remembers an argument they both had earlier in the morning as Taiju returned from the skies, seeing him about to leave the hut after deeming himself fit enough. Taiju wanted to keep him inside for multiple reasons but Senkū couldn’t stomach another monotonous day cooped up in his hut. Not after counter every groove and chip in the wooden panels and flooring. Senkū argues that, although he’s been restricted to bed rest and technically sitting on his rump doing nothing almost every day, it does not mean he cannot assist Taiju in their constant struggle of survival by making and setting traps around their camp. Taiju at first protested but Senkū threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t cooperate. Taiju reluctantly accepted.

They take a break near the frozen river when Senkū starts lagging. Taiju, agreeing to a break, opts to fish while Senkū rests, carefully shuffling along the ice so as to not fall in with temperatures as cold as they currently are. Hypothermia is certainly a deadly mistress given the right conditions.

Senkū watches from afar as Taiju takes a stone blade and thrust it downward, piercing through the hard exterior of the ice. Snow gets in his eyes forcing him to squint, hand reaching back to snap the hood with fur trim over his head to block the pesky things. He sighs and paces as Taiju makes a hole in the ice, readying his spear with an expectant smile.

Senkū’s hand never leaves his stone dagger’s sheath as he shuffles through snow-covered trees to stand beside the river. His wings twitch and shiver, however their reaction isn’t tied to danger. He’s probably too cold now to remain outside for much longer and his pale fingers tell him enough, yet he waits patiently for Taiju to at least catch something edible before they return to camp.

“Ah ha!”

Senkū looks up to see Taiju hoisting a fish large enough to feed them both, smiling happily at his catch.

“Senkū! Look what I caught!”

“I can see it, Taiju. Good work.”

Beaming, Taiju crosses over the remaining length of the river to inspect his friend, frowning when he sees exhaustion creeping back in the other’s face and the shivers traveling up and down thin shoulders.

“This will feed us for the whole day, and we don’t have any more mushrooms so make it count. Wasting meat of any kind is illogically foolish.”

“Right,” Taiju nods, depositing the fish to scratch at his face and pausing when he feels coarse hair rather than dry skin. He fingers his chin and pulls, looking down with a blink.

“I have a _beard_?”

Senkū wants to chuckle at the absurdity that is Taiju’s obliviousness but he won’t, seeing the oaf look bewildered is enough to stave off witty words.

“Yup. It grew on your face since last month. I’m surprised you never noticed.”

“I guess I never did,” Taiju agrees, dropping his hands. Then his eyes widen and he looks frantic.

Senkū steps away slowly in fear of Taiju shaking him silly.

“But Yuzuriha—I don’t want her to see me like this! What if she doesn’t like me if I have a beard?”

The tall-haired scientist stares blankly at him before a snicker gets past his frozen lips.

“Senkū, this isn’t funny! I’m serious!”

“Well, I gotta admit that having a beard is a serious hygienic risk right now, so you’ll have fun trying to get that shaved.”

“But we don’t have anything to use, Senkū. If anything I’m surprised you don’t have one.”

“I’m 10 billion percent sure I won’t grow a beard but that’s not important,” Senkū grins as Taiju flushes. “Since we’re at the river, I can find something to help you with your silly problem.”

Taiju brightens at that. Senkū shuffles away, feeling uncomfortable at such brightness. "Thank you, Senkū! But what are you going to use?”

Digging through the snow, Senkū grins when he finds what he’s looking for: a brown-colored clam. Grinning evilly, he approaches Taiju who apparently lacks the basic instinct of self-preservation and he has no time to ask what he’s about to do when Senkū puts the clam to use.

“Sorry, Taiju—this will hurt. _A lot_. Sorry, not sorry.”

With a loud snap, Taiju screeches as a wad of hair gets pulled out, trapped between the two halves of the clam in Senkū’s hand.

Taiju levels Senkū with a look of pain and betrayal that he would do that with a clam, palming the new bald spot near the corner of his lips.

Senkū merely finds it amusing, thrusting the clam into Taiju’s face to snag another patch of hair, the clam ripping it away and making Taiju screech again, brown wings jolting from the pain. He snags more and more hair, going as fast as he can to pluck every bit of it and Taiju stands in place with eyes blown out. He looks like a pufferfish.

When the last patch of hair is gone, Senkū stares for a solid 15 seconds until he bursts into hysterical laughter, falling over himself when Taiju’s face starts to swell. He then stops and stares some more, Taiju looking back pathetically as his lips balloon along with his chin and cheeks. Senkū cackles louder and smacks his hands on the ground.

“Oh dear Einstein, you look like _Homer Simpson_!”

Taiju pouts. “Ipth nut phunny…”

Senkū laughs harder.

It was an amusing morning. He had nothing better to do.

* * *

What’s not amusing, he finds out later, is realizing that he’s been walking for a few minutes straight before he notices he’s begun to see snow at eye level. Grumbling, he digs himself out, shivering as the snow melts on his face. When he’s over the snow, he resumes walking around the tree as Taiju glides over with a grin before pausing, feeling himself slowly sink into the snow.

Taiju watches as Senkū sinks in the snow up to his waist, his face barely above the white surface with an unimpressed stare on his face. Taiju, on the other hand, continues to fly as he sets up the trap they need to catch a deer.

"I hate you," Senkū mutters, voice muffled by the snow around him.

"Maybe that's payback for the clam," Taiju grins and chuckles.

Senkū sends him a glare with a vengeful glint in his ruby eyes.

"Just you wait—I can perm your hair with a clam while you're asleep and maybe you'll wake up bald by the end of the week."

Taiju laughs at the threat as he continues to set up the trap, knotting the rope so it doesn't unravel. It's only when he flutters lower to Senkū's level that he realizes the other teen isn't laughing, staring at him dead in the eye with a blank expression. His smile falls.

Ah, so he's being entirely serious. Maybe he shouldn't have laughed at Senkū's helplessness in the snow earlier.

“Right. Sorry, Senkū.”

“Whatever—get me out of here. It’s cold as hell.”

Their week progresses at a snail’s pace, and when Taiju laughs at Senkū again for sinking in the snow until only his hair pops out like bok choy, he is oblivious to Senkū silently scheming his misfortune as he pulls him up, body shivering from the cold.

* * *

Night time descends. Senkū stirs from his fur pile beside Taiju, who snores softly in the silence of the hut. He lies in position quietly assessing Taiju’s alertness by poking him in the side over his ribs, a ticklish spot that never fails to make Taiju jump, yet the teen simply jolts and snores a bit louder before reaching up to scratch. Senkū observes a moment longer, squinting his eyes when the torch outside flickers a bit. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out the clam, scooting closer to Taiju’s head and eyeing those strands of hair spiking up from his scalp.

An evil grin spreads on his face as he gets to work. He first plucks a few hairs, testing the waters to see if Taiju will wake up. The teen just snores away.

Perfect.

When Taiju awakens the next day, it’s to a freezing scalp and the alarming lack of hair. The whole region shakes from the intensity of Taiju’s hysterical screeching.

“Oh, my god! Senkū, _why_?!”

“Oh, grow up, you won’t be bald forever. Hair grows back! Now let me sleep!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked the Chapter? Hated it? Let me know in the comments. Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> Sneak Peek:
> 
> _It's yet another failure to add onto the increasing list of failures, seeing those sparrows still trapped in stone even after pouring their new concoction just feels like a stab to the gut._
> 
> _Taiju slumps over in defeat but he has one wing curling around Senkū, pulling him closer after the tired teen kicks away an empty pot in frustration._
> 
> _"We've been at this for months now and still no progress."_
> 
> _"Maybe we can try again?"_
> 
> _"If we continue to distill the alcohol, maybe."_
> 
> _Taiju frowns. They've been distilling the liquid over the course of winter and the better part of spring, yet the results remain the same. He can tell it's eating at Senkū's efforts to solve the mystery behind petrification._
> 
> _Then a crack resounds throughout the lab, the silence that follows blankets every other sound from outside._


	6. Variables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There, all done. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry now?”_
> 
> _Taiju, teary-eyed, pouts and crosses his arms, gaining a snort from the shorter boy._   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see!
> 
> So, _Beyond My Wings_ will be updated every one to three weeks depending on whatever goes on in life, mostly because I feel like I lost a boxing match with a freight train and I still don't have my car back, lol. Otherwise, please enjoy the chappie!

Senkū stares at the ceiling in a daze for the seventh early morning in a row into the new year, face cold and slightly numb even when his body is pleasantly warm and comfortable beneath the pile of furs. The lion pelt spread around his body hugs him like Taiju does when he’s overly affectionate, chasing after a faint dream that’s too fuzzy to make out.

His eyes roll sideways to glance at Taiju, the teen quietly dreaming with a trail of saliva running across his cheek to dampen the wolf pelt beneath his head. His scalp now sports a good inch of hair after a solid month of growth since his revenge in December and the thought brings a dull feeling of amusement to briefly spark in his chest but it ultimately extinguishes when his eyes roll back to the ceiling, an inaudible sigh leaving his lips. He absently trails hesitant fingers over the clean hickory feathers covering him to pick at the few pieces of dry grass and dirt he can find stuck in the afterfeathers.

Strangely, the feeling of a solid block sitting in his chest manifests whenever he's awake. He's somewhat positive it may be depression but with how muddled his senses are he isn't sure on the accuracy of the symptoms. He’s already identified a few of them with how unenthusiastic he’s been throughout the process of distilling their alcohol, lugging his body around like it’s accumulated a few more kilograms than usual and wishing to sleep into oblivion. The resounding silence that follows every morning after awakening makes his skin itch with the urge to get up and get rid of the strange sensation that floods his spine. It drives him up the wall. The incessant crawling of spiders gliding over his arms or the flutter of phantom fingers creeping along the back of his neck leaves him shivering, fighting the urge to pick at the sensations just to make them stop makes him question whether he’s screwed in the mental department.

He closes his eyes and breathes slowly, wanting to sleep yet is unable to do so. Slumber evades him. The increasing difficulty in entering REM sleep and appropriately maintaining a stable restful state is currently an endeavor he can’t pursue. Senkū can effectively conclude that something is amiss but he can't accurately pin the source as to why. It’s as if his mind is a dog constantly chasing a trail when it’s only its tail—a meaningless turnaround of mindless thoughts mixed together with mental exhaustion bogging it all down to the speed of an old 1915 Sugimoto typewriter.

His fingers lightly grip Taiju’s feathers and he breathes out harshly, carefully lifting the wing and folding it into Taiju’s side to remove his pelts so he can stand. He walks to the entryway of the hut, bare feet gliding over the chilly floorboards. He stops at the doorway to part the tarp, gazing at the gray-blue cumulus clouds streaking the sky and the snow coloring the land white. Checking the area, he finds no predators lingering around the perimeter of the camp’s fence. It brings a sense of assurance to know that it holds strong.

A cold gust of wind brushes his face and he shivers. He debates whether to remain inside and sleep some more or check on the distilling pot and correct possible mistakes. It would be productive and reassuring if he can check on it as soon as he’s able to see how much longer it'll take for them to make nital. The string of failures to free the sparrows from their stone prison digs into his inner tirade of self-loathing even as a few brief sparks of excitement over a project flare.

Glancing at a fur cloak hanging by the door—a recent addition to his wintery wardrobe to keep him warm—he tugs it off the wooden hook to thumb the leather. Taiju mother-henned him to the point of making one for him when he almost came down with a cold the week before wearing only his fur-trimmed leathers. According to Taiju, the garment with fuzz sewn into the collar and sleeves barely qualifies for appropriate winter clothes. He studies the light color of the cloak, the shade similar to that of limestone with silver fur sewn on the inside. He remembers the annoying process of cleaning out the furs he needed for the damn thing in the river, muttering how unclean and coarse the fur was from lack of care, however his efforts makes up for his displeasure when the end product is as soft as silk once it dried off.

Slipping the cloak over his shoulders and wings and clasping the frontal loop over the bone shard sewn on the left side, he lifts the fur-lined hood over his head and silently leaves the hut, holding the cloak close when a breeze billows past.

The frigid temperatures aren’t as unforgiving today compared to yesterday and Senkū finds that it’s a good time to find something to do before Taiju wakes and proceeds to becoming one with his shadow for the next 12 hours. He looks over at the horizon mentally bringing up the time and date without really thinking about it.

January 7th, 5739. 6:28AM. Tuesday. The moon is a waxing crescent and slowly fading with the signs of first light. The next full moon won’t occur until the 21st of the current month. Spring should greet them in a few months, which means the return of vegetation and a surplus of plants to harvest. He just has to be patient and bear the cold, prepare the land for growing what few plants he can from the few seeds he recovered.

He pauses and blinks, distantly remembering that his birthday has come and gone without his or Taiju’s notice. Time and date are firmly ticking in the abyss of his subconscious but the frivolous pagan rituals of man have been pushed away in favor of a more pressing cause—using science to create a solution capable of breaking down the petrification effect on both humans and sparrows.

But it isn’t enough.

Even with Taiju at his side, there’s only so much two people of differing intellect can achieve on their own. They’d need a large amount of people who know what they’re doing to pull off many of the inventions now lost to time. With memory, however, he may be the only one who can bring it all back. The downside to this is the fact that he has a lower chance of survival against anything physically stronger than a domestic labrador.

Taking a breath, Senkū climbs down and hops off, grimacing as booted feet touch the snow-covered field at the bottom of the tree. With his wings covered he gradually relaxes when the chill doesn’t infest his bones and trudges forward, taking a spear for added measure as ruby eyes glare out into the barren forest. He crosses the clearing to the fence with a quick gait, checking it for discrepancies before moving on and stopping every few meters to make sure it’s holding up against predators.

A few close calls and early warnings were enough to spare them the surprise of ambushing lions and wolves.

A crack beyond the fencing startles him into brandishing his spear, wings briefly shivering and primaries curling inward causes him to wince. But the pain doesn’t distract him, mind latching onto the echoing sound like a hound out for blood. 

Senkū hisses as two glowing eyes shine from the depths of the forest, backing away from the fence with a tight grip on his spear. Both eyes are gold, studying him closely as he makes out the shape of two distinct ears perking up in attention in his direction, a long snout and a black nose flares, sending white mist in the air. Specks of glittering white peppers its dark coat.

It stands alone atop a boulder, tail slowly swishing in the snow. Its muzzle and front legs show off a collection of old scars, missing patches of fur over one shoulder, and wicked claws digging into the rock. No other wolf joins it in peering over the land.

A lone wolf, Senkū notes.

Both stare at each other for a time, intrigued gold against glaring ruby. They break the stare when a deer bellows in the distance, the wolf snapping towards the source and taking off with a bark. Senkū stands there moments after, eyes dark and hands trembling. It takes a heavy sigh for him to unfreeze, slinging the spear over his shoulder as he stumbles to the next piece of fence.

Another day within the safety of their estranged home safe from predators. A far cry from the open area with just himself to depend on.

He doesn’t know how he managed to live in the wilderness until Taiju finally broke free. Stereotypically, most people would offer false condolences or praise with the words “lucky” or “smart” attached to their dead words, their eyes reflecting nothing but pity or skepticism if they hear the story of a person surviving against all odds so far removed from a human settlement, and those types of people often get on his nerves. Yet, some will offer their empathy and listen, not just from their ears but also with their heart and that is something Taiju is capable of, the big oaf.

A small smile curls on his lips as his dark eyes lower to the ground, ambling along the fence line and looking upwards as sunlight shines brightly across the landscape, adding a glittering shine to the snow, but high above he can still see the winking of stars and the wide disk of the Milky Way, slowly being swallowed by the light particles as the sun rises. He briefly considers if, in all the time that’s passed him by, man-made structures in space still exist. Have they spun out of orbit and into the deep unknown that is the vastness of space, or did they crash into the earth? Is there a possibility of any space station remaining within Earth’s orbit? He isn’t sure.

What about the Soyuz?

His eyes widen when Byakuya’s smiling face flashes in his mind and he stops, nearly dropping his spear. 

“I wonder if Byakuya is still out there. Would the Light have gotten him too, I wonder…” he whispers to the wind. As insufferable as the man was with his sense of humor his heart was in the right place, always ensuring others had fun instead of letting life weigh them down. Maybe he’d been humoring himself with that prank he devised with Lillian Weinberg on the day they joined the international space station just to confuse the other astronauts. It wouldn't have been the first time he’d do such a thing just to liven up the atmosphere.

_“You see, the moon follows you around because it’s got a big crush on you, Senkū.”_

_“That logic is stupid and you know it, old man. I don’t want to hear that crap from you.”_

_“Okay then. The moon isn’t actually following you, it’s just super far away that it looks like it is. Just like my dream of becoming an astronaut...”_

_“Save the wistfulness for poetry—it’s embarrassing.”_

An ache settles in his heart by the time he reaches the other end of the fence, completing the rough circle of clearing the camp is situated on without realizing it. Groaning, he palms his face realizing he spaced out for the better part of an hour. He can’t just do that when inspecting the fences. A surprise attack could finish him off and humanity would be doomed.

He’ll push it off for a later time, deciding that today wouldn’t be a good day to go over it again, not when he’s gotten himself into a poor mood. Instead, he heads for the firepit to rekindle the fire, dragging over a basket of fish from the base of the tree and carefully avoiding the blank grave Taiju has graciously and purposely avoided mentioning when he first spotted it.

When he gets the fire going he hears a shout behind him and spots Taiju emerging from the hut with barely anything to cover his body, wings dragging on the wood boards as the taller boy looks around frantically with terror in his eyes.

Senkū stares, jaw dropping open slowly, mortified as Taiju sprints to the far ledge to look over the forest, paling even further when a gust of wind pull at his leathers, the material slipping off his figure to reveal Taiju in his birthday suit glory.

Einstein have mercy, because he wishes he had sodium hydroxide just to wash the cursed imagery from his brain. He’d endure corneal melting syndrome to save himself from witnessing more.

“Senkū! Where did you go?!”

Right, he forgot to leave a message.

“I’m surprised to see that you’re up this early. Usually you go hunting around 7:26 in the morning,” Senkū calls out, catching Taiju’s attention. He forces himself to remain calm even if he’s currently having a mental breakdown after seeing Taiju’s—no. Nope. Not going there. He will not go down that contrived rabbit hole spiralling into madness. Seeing it once was one time too much. A second time is inherently illegal as it is torture.

And now Taiju makes his way over to Senkū without realizing he’s currently streaking and poor Senkū can feel his heart nearly give out.

“Oh no. No, no, Taiju, please consider your current state of dress. I’m having a mental breakdown right now.”

Taiju cocks his head in confusion, yawning out loud and scratching his head. “What do you mean?”

Senkū’s jaw drops. Is he so sleepy that he’s oblivious of the cold?

“Put some _damn clothes on_ , you idiot!”

Taiju’s eyes widen and his eyes dart downward to inspect himself, squeaking—actually _squeaking_ like some kids’ toy—and hurriedly grabs his leathers so he can make himself halfway decent. He flies down once he’s clothed, nearly blowing out the kindling with how his wings burst at his landing. Senkū has no time to react when Taiju encircles his arms around him in a firm hug, his wings following suit to nearly drown the younger boy in a blanket of sweaty warmth.

Senkū stares ahead, expression blank like carved stone. Inwardly he panics because not a minute before his best friend was presenting himself to the world in all his nakedness with the situational awareness of a cat chasing a laser dot. He awkwardly pats Taiju’s arms to let him go.

“Oaf, I can allow hugging on a good day but if you start this after showing up naked I will hit you.”

Taiju quickly releases the scientist with a loud, nervous chuckle. “R-Right. You’re mad. You get scary when you’re mad. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“”Startle” is a _deplorable_ understatement” Senkū mutters under his breath, feeling peeved yet offended.

Taiju doesn’t notice, eager to change the subject as the shorter of the two glares at him. Still, he starts checking him over for what he guesses are possible injuries and Senkū lets him indulge in the habit, having gotten used to his fretting over the last few months together that it’s become routine. Hell, Taiju can pass as one of those helicopter moms from American reality programs with how frequently he hovers. It’s both ironic and amusing, if he thinks about it.

Deeming him perfectly fine, Taiju beams and pats him on the head. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay today, Senkū! I was worried something happened!”

Is he seriously treating him like a child? Senkū would pout but that’s an illogically stupid reaction that only further cements Taiju’s behavior. Best not do that.

Giving him a look that’s both painful and incredulous Senkū leans away and asks, “How is anything getting past the barbed fences sporting spearheads and lit torches?”

“If they climbed trees?”

Senkū snorts, sticking two fish on sticks as Taiju sits next to him. “Rhetorical question, Taiju.”

The teen blinks before he chuckles with an embarrassed flush blooming on his face.

Senkū shakes his head with a grin and turns his attention to two small rolls of fur he dipped in water before starting the fire. He takes one and wrings the water out, rolling it back up before handing it to Taiju.

“Thank you,” Taiju nods and unravels it to wash his hands, looking grateful for the chance to wipe the dirt clinging to his fingers. Senkū repeats with the second roll and cleans his hands with a thoughtful frown.

Taiju watches for a while as Senkū absently fingers the lock of hair crossing over his nose, tracing the deep green ends with eyes far away. He begins to fidget and Senkū wonders what he could possibly want to say given the telling twitches of his wing ridges, the awkwardly curling feathers slightly puffing out and smoothing over in succession. The behavior he associates with hesitation and apprehension, most likely a question is about to be asked that may or may not be invasive yet he has no confirmation it may be so.

“Did you have a nightmare again?”

Senkū pauses and breathes in. He isn't sure. Days and nights tend to blend together and pinpointing the exact moment his nightmares gave way to senseless dreams without meaning isn't particularly easy. He struggles to sleep and then wakes as if he's gone through a harrying battle only feeling the after effects on his body without the memories attached. Lately, however, barely recalls suffering nightmares upon waking.

Sighing, he leans back and straightens from his slouch. He rests his hands on his lap and closes his eyes. “No—at least not recently.”

Taiju’s brows furrow. “When was the last time?”

“About four days ago, I assume.”

Brown wings relax and spread on the ground around them in waves of hickory and sand, the brilliance of such dark color glinting from the flames. Senkū smiles as Taiju breathes a sigh in relief, scooting closer to bump shoulders.

“I’m—I’m glad to hear that, Senkū. I was worried you weren’t sleeping enough.”

Senkū snorts. “Shut up, helicopter mom. I’ll be fine. We just need to get up to speed on the alcohol. We’re getting close, I’m sure of it. If the first batch wasn’t ruined it would have finished sooner.”

Taiju hums in agreement. He brings up a wing and Senkū latches onto his feathers without a thought, fingers automatically weaving over the plumage to pluck out snow and dirt and grumbling over their state of cleanliness as he usually does.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to try again,” Taiju bellows with a smile.

Senkū picks up the sound of deer startling from the noise and prancing away.

“Sure, sure. Maybe we’ll get more than what types of mushrooms are edible in that thick skull of yours, Taiju.”

“Hey! I can be smart!”

Senkū quirks a fine eyebrow at him and drags over a basket of mushrooms they have left and opens the lid, reaching inside to pluck one with a red cap. Taiju looks at him nonplussed when Senkū punts it at his head.

“Not when you mistake a poisonous species for the video game equivalent! I _told_ you this one is bad for us!”

Taiju wilts as more mushrooms bounce off of him. Senkū smirks and closes the basket, not bothering to pick up the fungi he flung. His hands return to Taiju’s wings and plucks out an old feather that has yet to molt. Taiju yelps.

“Senkū, why did you do that,” Taiju questions with a whine.

“Simple,” Senkū tuts at him. “Leaving this attached will only damage the next feather growing in its place, maybe even damage the calamus. That will cause pain and I refuse to let you neglect your wings like this just because you’re a dunce at self care.”

He completely ignores the fact he’s being a hypocrite himself over the same thing despite the circumstance.

Taiju sheepishly turns away with a flush on his cheeks and laughs a bit, the jab a mere tease.

Senkū wrangles more feathers showing signs of splits and cracked quills and plucks them out with a quick flick of his wrist, ignoring the way Taiju squeaks at each pull. It’s the quickest, least painful way other than letting them molt naturally and he’s adamant they be kept clean for both their sakes lest they're _both_ crippled and grounded.

It’s a possibility he wants to avoid at all costs.

“There, all done. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry now?”

Taiju, teary-eyed, pouts and crosses his arms, gaining a snort from the shorter boy. The fish sizzle on the sticks and Senkū plucks one to give to Taiju, plucking the other to bite into, savoring the flavor of the meat seasoned with a dash of sea salt. He gets halfway through eating it when Taiju lowers his stick, going silent for a moment. Concern spikes through Senkū and he glances from his meal to find Taiju staring at his back.

“Taiju?”

“Senkū, your wings—” Taiju chokes up, reaching out to raise the cloak and tenderly brush along the pollex and carpometacarpus ridges, sending pinpricks of pain branching through the grimy appendage. Senkū flinches.

A sad hum leaves Taiju’s lips. “Your wings are _so bad_ right now. Can I… can I help? I know you hate leaving them so dirty.”

Senkū frowns, harshly clenching his hands around the stick. _Hate_ isn’t the right word to describe the disturbing, grotesque feel of grime and oil festering in his delicate wings, staining the once bright white a murky umber with dead grass, dirt, and bacteria he can’t get rid of. It makes his skin crawl when he reaches back feel silky-soft feathers and instead it’s the feel of clumpy plumes of rough down crusted over with several layers of filth. The nausea churning in his stomach and shivers accompanying the sensation only makes him feel worse. It’s the only reason he wears his clothes when sleeping just to avoid feeling them against his back.

No, _hate_ isn’t the right word to describe the feeling. On the contrary, labeling it as “hatred” would be too kind a word for him to give. What he labels this feeling is worse than what hatred could instill, worse than _loathing_ and _enmity_ and _detestation_ put together to form a macabre painting of nightmares that leeches the life out of him, leaving him a dry husk of a shadow against his will. It’s a word that is the epitome of all his feelings that festered since the first day free from stone and the truth caused his world to crumble.

That word is _abhorrence_.

Taiju shifts, posture straight and alarmed as Senkū crushes the stick into two pieces, uncaring if the remainder of his meal drops into the ash gathering on the ground.

“Senkū?”

He’s shaking now. Fingers now refuse to let go of the broken stick even when the flesh of his palm is being pierced by slivers of wood, his teeth are grinding harshly enough it makes his jaw ache, and his eyes narrow at the fire. Beside him, Taiju winces and wildly flaps his arms about.

“Something is bothering you, isn’t it?”

A small growl forces itself from Senkū’s throat as he tries to compose himself, wanting nothing more than to get up and curl up in the nest and sleep the feelings off until morning. He frowns and closes his eyes, berating himself for making the teen worry so much over him. With difficulty, he turns to Taiju and winces at the worry overflowing in brown eyes.

Despite the dark thoughts spouting disgust and the apprehension of something purposely touching his wings, Senkū’s gaze softens when his best friend fidgets nervously, eyes never straying from his wings as they shake. He doesn't register the words that tumble out of his mouth until after he says them.

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Taiju grimaces and slowly reaches forward to the magled feathers, eyes darting to Senkū’s face as his fingers are within centimeters from touching them. Seeing his hesitation, Senkū gives him a nod and tenses when he feels the first touch gliding over one of the split primaries.

“It’s okay, I’m going to be gentle.”

“I know.”

“But you look like you’re going to throw up, Senkū.”

“And you’re 10 billion percent correct on that but can you please get a move on before I do?”

The thought of anyone deliberately touching his wings makes him nauseous regardless if it’s someone he trusts.

He knows Taiju is aware of the nervous tenor ringing from his words when he shoots a worried glance at him, tensing at his shoulders before they relax to continue carefully grooming his feathers.

Senkū breathes out when little shocks flare, tensing as Taiju meticulously and nervously sifts through his plumage.

“Like this?”

Feeling Taiju twist a feather, Senkū breathes out harshly and grabs his arm. “You don’t twist it, just yank it out.”

He can hear Taiju chewing on his lip as he follows Senkū’s instructions, carefully gripping the feather and pulling it. Even as careful as he is it feels as though someone is pinching at his skin. He can’t imagine how painful it would be if someone were to hit them or even squeeze, let alone gently pull out a single feather.

Taiju continues to skirt through the feathers, awkwardly reassuring Senkū to soothe his worries even if the effort is laughably ineffective.

When 23 primary feathers have been pulled, Taiju pauses.

“Senkū… a lot of these feathers are dead.”

“Pull them,” Senkū sighs, wiping his sweaty forehead, heart picking up speed in his chest.

Taiju whimpers and stares at him all teary eyed.

“But this will hurt you so much, Senkū! There has to be another way we can do this!”

“Not one millimeter, you Oaf! You already know that if we don’t it’ll only get worse. Statistically, the condition my wings are in can lead to permanent deformities in the wrist joint. If I put it off any longer I risk developing health problems.”

“But I don’t want you to hurt more.” Taiju sniffles, bottom lip wobbling as he guiltily turns his gaze downward, the early light of morning accenting the sharpness of the shadows clinging to his face.

Senkū feels guilt well inside at the fearful tone, but looking back at his matted wings he knows he can’t put it off any longer.

Just like he told Taiju, if the feathers aren’t removed the plumage growing in will get damaged. If he neglects them any longer it’ll be impossible to fly even if he somehow regains the ability to do so.

He looks at Taiju, eyes burning, and nods.

“Pull them.”

Taiju squeezes his eyes shut and quickly pulls a broken secondary feather out. Senkū’s eyes blow wide and close just as quickly, bracing himself on his hands and knees, choking down a groan that sticks in his throat as a flicker of pain stabs at his wing like a needle. He parts his bangs and locks eyes with Taiju, breath hitching as the pain dissipates.

“Keep going. Don’t pause. It’ll only make it hurt more if you stop in between pulling them.”

And so Taiju does, and every feather that is plucked quickly and carefully has Senkū fighting back the pained groans and hisses that threaten to leave his lips, curling into himself when Taiju’s fingers brush away the dirt and grime with lukewarm water. The ground is littered with old, unkempt feathers, their colors dull and stained with grime. Senkū shoots looks of disgust when he spots what looks like spots of mold affecting a few of them.

He groans when Taiju carefully separates his wings so that he can get to the marginal covert feathers, hoping those haven’t developed mold. It’s painful even under such a gentle touch and Senkū fights the urge to pull away and smack Taiju.

He refrains. Poor thing would whine like no tomorrow if he did.

Taiju moves down to splash water over the right wing’s bicep and presses into it to clean the feathers, Senkū’s vision fades as white-hot fire races through his nerves. A small sound traps itself in his throat and he falls off the log, his vision twisting similarly to a psychedelic drug trip.

“Senkū!” Taiju scrambles to catch him, gently lowering him to the ground. “Oh god, Senkū, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to!”

“Stop— _Stop_! I'm _fine_ , Taiju. Just keep going,” Senkū growls, slapping his hands away, sweat beading his forehead. He hauls himself upright, clenching his fingers in his cloak to ground himself when he feels Taiju hesitantly put a hand to his shoulder.

“I refuse!” Taiju shakes his head, brows deepening to accentuate his frown. “I’m not continuing when you don't give yourself time to rest! Your wing muscles are bad right now!”

“I know their condition is bad! I’m trying to figure out _why_!”

Taiju flinches at the loud tone but Senkū needs to get it through to him. He has no answer as to what’s causing his condition in the first place and without assistance he would be sitting around with infuriatingly frustrating questions bouncing in his mind.

Taiju closes his eyes and slumps in defeat. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll help. But I… it makes me uncomfortable to do this, Senkū.”

Senkū feels a brush of shame for selfishly asking this of Taiju, but survival for the both of them is, as of right now, his biggest concern. Taiju is doing all he can to keep them alive and Senkū can’t venture into the wild alone. If he still had the ability to fly they would have sought shelter in Yuzuriha’s tree high above the ground. The river is just down the hill from it and the area seems sheltered enough to provide berries and herbs. The camp they reside in was made out of necessity and anxious worrying and lacks more resources than he’s comfortable with.

Senkū watches as Taiju reluctantly continues to press against the biceps, choking down whimpers when he kneads the muscles connecting to his back. He feels Taiju inspect lower where the appendages stick close to his back and gently presses to move them, presumably so he can see if more feathers need to be pulled. He feels the pull, but nothing gives. They refuse to budge.

Glancing back, he watches as Taiju frowns and adds a small amount of pressure. Senkū bites his lip, forcing himself to remain quiet even if the urge to shout.

The wings remain firmly in place. Taiju ceases inspecting the wings and Senkū flinches away, feebly twisting so he can palm a wing in an attempt to cradle it. Sweat rolls down his face to drench his clothes and Senkū pays it no mind when he’s far too busy chasing away the last vestiges of the aching burn.

Taiju walks around to sit in front of Senkū, his hands clasping together and wringing with nervous energy.

“That part I tried to move... they wouldn’t budge. It’s stuck, and hard. It was cold, too.”

He sits in silence as he takes in this new piece of information, clenching on his cloak even tighter.

The possible diagnosis for his condition may have narrowed down to a few answers he’s still unsure as to what is causing him so much pain. Logically, he could attribute a few details to dead tissue—necrosis, perhaps—or it could be poor blood circulation or atrophied muscles from prolonged disuse. It still doesn’t explain the firmness of the flesh and as much as he wants to investigate this new finding he feels Taiju won’t allow any more prodding until they’re both comfortable.

“Do you have an idea?” Taiju asks.

“A few possibilities,” Senkū hums. “We’ll have to find out tomorrow.”

Taiju’s face twists into displeasure but sighs and nods. He gets up to put out the fire for the night, acting both intriguingly strange yet depressing as he looks back at his wings. With the dead feathers cleared and some of the grime smoothed out, they look healthier than they have in over half a year. His fingers twitch with the urge to groom them rather than have another pair of hands doing it for him when he eyes his dirty primaries being carried off in the wind.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Senkū looks up at Taiju as he returns to sit at the log, soft embers and smoke the only remains of the fire.

“Besides feeling clean I don’t think so. Though, theoretically, I’m 10 billion percent sure my condition is related to petrification. Perhaps the day the world was petrified was where it all went wrong.”

“When we were petrified?”

“Yeah. If I’m correct, either I kept moving as I was being petrified and somehow ruined them by mistake, or something happened after I broke free. Either scenario has an unknown attached to it and I’m not sure as to which scenario is a guarantee. It also may be atrophy, a disease I am not familiar with, or nerve damage. Maybe something else. Right now I don’t have enough information to tell what it might be. It’s very frustrating.”

The pain from that one small press along the bicep of his wing is alarmingly painful. With how they plaster themselves against his back it’s only logical that the muscles are damaged somehow given how painful it is just from a slight amount of pressure.

“So what should we do?” Taiju asks, looking even more uncomfortable.

Senkū shrugs. “Either wait it out or test out a cure. I’m not entirely sure if it’s damaged nerves, damaged tissue, or broken bones. Without hospitals and doctors to help we’re stuck figuring it out on our own.”

With that, Senkū stands and heads for the distillation pot. Taiju doesn’t follow, finishing his task to properly clean the pit before flying off to hunt. Maybe even clear his mind of the raging emotions from the revelation of his condition.

Senkū sighs and glares at the distilling pot with a lopsided frown, examining the dark hue of the alcohol carefully. He picks up with a wooden ladle and dips it in the pot, scooping some of the liquid to look at it in the sunlight. The color looks to be about the right hue, darker and, after a quick sip, much more flavorful than the first time they drank the juice from their first batch last fall, but something nags at his mind. The liquid isn’t quite right. It’s almost perfect. Perhaps a few more days will suffice before he decides to test out a tentative new batch of depetrifying solution on the sparrows.

He jumps when a loud bellow echoes from the skies and looks up to find Taiju hovering a few meters away with two large boars hanging limply on each shoulder. He blinks and whistles, putting the ladle down to snatch a carving knife from his pouch.

“Well, that was quick.”

“Senkū, where should I put these?”

“Good catch. Those will last a few days, at the very least.” Senkū hums and eyes the area, settling on a pile of dry grass sitting beneath the hut devoid of snow and mud. He briskly ignores the blank slab of rock standing dead center and directs Taiju towards it. “Put them right there. Looks like we’re having pork for dinner.”

Taiju eyes him for a moment before beaming at him. “Alright!”

Senkū rolls his eyes and chuckles. Trust Taiju to feel enthusiastic about roasted pork ribs.

* * *

Snow slowly melts and gives way to warm winds come May, trees regrowing their splendorous green leaves arrives just in time for Senkū to finally see the fruits of his and Taiju’s laborious work reinventing an industrial etching solution to potentially break down the petrification effects on the sparrows after waiting through a long winter. 

Senkū wakes first, strangely lethargic yet so full of energy for waking from an illogical dream full of nonsense about Taiju having clams for a beard bat wings in place of his own. He wonders if the herbs he ate for dinner is the cause for such a strange dream but he chalks it up to Taiju being Taiju and suffering mental scarring in the form of his friend streaking again.

Something buzzes beneath his skin as he sheds off the fur blankets to quickly get started on the day to distract himself. Mentally, he goes over his list of chores; Taiju would have to get more wood for the pit and the extra skins they managed to acquire from hunting are still hanging on a branch hanging above the hut. He sighs and straps on his pouches and freezes when he realizes he needs to check the distilling pot. But first...

He causally bops Taiju over the head and ignores the following whine in favor of exiting the hut to check on the alcohol, pure will power overpowering the painful twinges in his wings as he climbs down the ladder and the wooden supports faster than is necessary. Walking up to the distilling pot and inspecting the alcohol, Senkū grabs a ladle to scoop some of the liquid for inspection.

The color is dark and rich, with hints of garnet glinting in the early sun. The taste, after he samples it, is better than he hoped.

Then that means...

“Taiju! Get your ass down here!”

When he hears nothing as he snatches a pot to fill with alcohol, he looks back to the hut to find no Taiju present. Growling throatily he sets down the pot and dashes up the ladder, skidding inside and jumping on Taiju’s still sleeping form, startling him enough he almost gets thrown off.

“Ah! What the—”

“Get up, you buffoon! It’s time to test things!”

“What? Senkū, five more minutes—”

Senkū narrows his eyes.

This buffoon really loves pushing his buttons, doesn’t he?

“Taiju,” he whispers almost venomously. A smidge of satisfaction arises when he feels the other boy startle at the tone. “If you don’t get out of the nest a clam to perm your hair will be the least of your worries.”

Taiju rolls over with a look of horror and jumps up, wings flaring and flapping as he trips over the furs. “I’m up, I’m up!”

He dashes out of the hut without a second to lose and Senkū stares dumbfoundead.

“Is he really afraid of clams now? How illogical.”

Shrugging, he exits the hut and quickly descends, pushing down a hiss from the impact of his swift landing. Retrieving the pot and dashing to his lab, he slips beneath the tarp and blindly grabs a sparrow from the shelf, setting it gently on a log. Depositing the alcohol pot and grabbing another with nitric acid and sits down just as Taiju bursts in.

“Go get more alcohol from the distilling pot. We’re going to mix both the nitric acid and the alcohol to make our etching solution.”

Taiju nods and plucks a pot from a nearby shelf, sprinting outside as Senkū excitedly returns his focus on the pots, lifting the alcohol pot to pour into the other, carefully dipping in a ladle to mix both liquids together.

Finally, with the power of science he can create a formula that should guarantee him results. The last few experiments ended with no progress to be had, frustrations building with each failure that mocked their very efforts back in their faces—but science is more than getting things right on the fly; it’s a process of trial and error, steps to be taken to filter out human mistakes and impurities before reaching the final product of one’s hard work.

It fills him with a sense of exhilaration once he finishes stirring the pot, setting it aside as soon as Taiju stumbles in with a newly filled pot. He eyes the trailing spill on the side of the thing in distaste. He brushes it off in favor of thrusting a smaller pot filled with the formula into Taiju’s hands.

Taiju startles and nearly drops it.

“Careful! That has our new revival formula in it!”

“Right! What do you need me to do?”

“Go and sit down over there,” Senkū gestures to the other log acting as a table, a lone sparrow statue lying on the polished surface. “Now, slowly pour it over the statue. I’m uncertain if dumping the whole thing won’t be as effective.”

In synch, they tip over their pots and watch as the narrow stream of yellow liquid drenches the statues, sitting back to looks of concentration marked by beading sweat. His excitement builds as they set the pots down, crossing their arms to study the rock’s outer shell for any cracks that might appear.

Several moments of silence proceed to roll by, the excited air slowly dimming as nothing comes to fruition. Senkū gradually loses the manic grin and a frown replaces it, his eyes darkening. In one swift move he stands, rattling the trunk to storm over the entrance to his hut with shaking fists. Even Taiju seems to have lost his enthusiasm with how quiet he’s gotten.

It’s yet another failure to add onto the increasing list of failures, seeing those sparrows still trapped in stone even after pouring their new concoction just feels like a stab to the gut, an insult to their efforts. Months of work and waiting leading to nothing.

Taiju slumps over in defeat but he has one wing curling around Senkū, pulling him closer after the tired teen kicks away an empty pot in frustration.

“We’ve been at this for months now and still no progress.”

“Maybe we can try again?”

“If we continue to distill the alcohol, maybe.”

Taiju frowns. They’ve been distilling the liquid over the course of winter and the better part of spring, yet the results remain the same. He can tell it’s eating away at Senkū’s efforts to solve the mystery behind petrification.

Then a crack resounds throughout the lab, the silence that follows blankets every other sound from outside.

In a blink, Senkū and Taiju flinch when a crumbling crack follows, and then a flash of blue streaks out into the open air. They stare at each other with varying degrees of surprise before their gaze zero in on a lone feather surrounded by stone fragments, whole and glistening with pearly drops of liquid on the trunk, its end still partially petrified.

Senkū’s eyes brighten and a smile spreads on his lips, back straightening. His wings would have fluttered if they weren’t in the shape they’re in.

“This is—” he starts, hands shaking as he grasps the feather with reverent awe. Gently, he glides a finger over the plume and feels the soft texture that solidifies the realism that is this new discovery, a big step in science towards the salvation of humanity right at his fingertips. It’s such an exhilarating change he feels as if he’s soaring.

Taiju leans over and his face breaks out in a joyous smile, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! We did it, Senkū!”

Senkū can't help but shake at the declaration, eyes never leaving the gem sitting in his palms. Tears build up and he roughly rubs his eyes to stop his ducts from spilling. Crying can wait. Right now it’s illogical in the face of this achievement and he’d rather not activate Mother-Hen-Taiju to spoil the moment. No—they have to seize the moment. Take advantage of this new window of time in which answers can be given and possibilities explored. Why, he’s feeling so much excitement he almost misses the lurch in his left wing trying to express his feelings.

“Taiju, come with me.”

Taiju looks up, the awe in his gaze softening Senkū like warm putty. He adores when others find science to be wondrous as they should be, soaking in the possibilities that which shape the very universe in all its mystery.

He drags Taiju outside to a lone stump and deposits a petrified sparrow onto it, holding up a small pot with the revival fluid. He stares deeply in Taiju’s eyes that it makes the boy squirm from the intensity of the stare.

“This is a turning point where fantasy and science distinguish themselves from each other. No longer do we live in a frivolous fantasy world, science has given us an answer after trials and errors have been made.”

Gripping the pot tighter he pours the fluid on the statue, his brows furrowing.

“Let me teach you something, Taiju. While people believe science cannot explain everything, they neglect to look for the rules behind those very things.”

Taiju’s eyes widen when a crack forms over the petrified bird’s left eye, tiny web-like cracks spreading across the head and over the beak.

“Science isn’t an instant solution to a problem; it’s a slow, steady, pain in the ass process that comes down to trial and error, countless nights spent looking for answers.”

Stone cracks and crumbles and a beady black eye gazes up at them, the plumage around it royal blue.

This is the answer; the solution to a threat that decimated humanity and its advances. The ultimate tool to revive those once lost and shining a beacon of hope in the face of overwhelming odds stacked against them.

Senkū’s eyes brighten as the stone cracks further, a small grin stretching his lips as the bird begins to struggle, the cracks quickly spreading across its body in mere seconds and in a blink and a shower of tiny stone fragments, a picture of magnificence soars from the trunk and high above them with sweet, ringing chirps. Its long wings spread open and take off, speed picking up as it twirls in the sky beautiful and free.

Taiju remains silent and then a slow-building shout of exhilarating delirium shoots past his lips and builds in volume as the sparrow shoots north, its small body vanishing in the horizon similarly to a desert mirage.

Senkū can’t find it in himself to care, not when the elation threatens to knock him off his feet. He gingerly walks to a stump and lowers himself to take it all in, to revel in his victory in achieving his first goal in the grand scheme of reviving humanity without passing out. He feels faint, lightheaded even, and a tad exhausted despite getting decent rest. It’s so overwhelming he’s sweating enough to drench a whole cloak.

It almost doesn’t feel real, yet he tested fantasy with the tools of science. Science prevails, just as it should be, and it took one year to get here. A year filled with hardship, frustration, and endless testing to get to this point, but with significant leaps in progress nonetheless. Without Taiju by his side he wouldn’t have made it very far on his own.

He tips his head back and gives a shadow of a smile, sweat glistening on pale skin.

Taiju stops screaming, looking at him with a curiously perplexed look. The teen hesitates, concern in his eyes before he decides to sit in front of Senkū like a mother hen.

“Even after delays and failures, we got here a lot sooner than I’d calculated.”

Taiju never says a word, content to let him have this moment and take it in, process it carefully, and deal with the aftereffects when the adrenaline and the emotions drain from his very soul.

“How exhilarating.”

* * *

When the night blankets the sun and the clouds Senkū finds himself climbing onto the roof of their hut with a bundle of furs hanging from his back, feeling the restlessness of inactivity after their first major discovery since waking up. He can feel it in his very bones the way he wants to sleep and slip away to a dreamless plain but it’s an illogical desire that should be ignored even if his body protests.

The boy finds a spot and hastily makes an uncoordinated attempt at a nest, deeming it passable enough to curl into. He digs in his pouch after he settles, pulling out his dagger. It glows copper beneath the light of the moon.

Senkū hums as he traces his fingers over the dagger. Humans first made stone tools as their very first inventions more than 2 million years prior and then soon discovering fire possibly on accident. He plans to rebuild society from the ground-up, reintroduce the wonders of the technological world that breached the atmosphere and made way to space where no human can hope to survive on their own.

One day, he'll make it to space. Even if it hurts him in the end.

Looking up at a bright star lighting the sky with a brilliant glow drowning the stars around it, its halo cresting the line between absolute darkness and the backdrop of the Milky Way’s starry bands, he clenches his fingers on the dagger as his eyes soften, the reds of his irises reflecting the beauty above the deeper he gazes into its depths. A small smile stretches his lips, basking in the night as he leans back to burrow in his cloak to sleep for the night, chest light and dreams brimming with constellations and space stations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a question for you guys. It's more out of curiosity, really. Would you prefer to have:  
> A: Previews of each chapter in the Notes?  
>  or  
>  B: Give a vague, crack-y description for shits and giggles?
> 
> Either option sounds fun so go for it.
> 
> Lemme know what you guys think and I'll see ya's later. :D * _Proceeds to laugh maniacally and twiddle fingers._ *
> 
> Sneak Peek:
> 
> _“Tell me again, Taiju. In the months we’ve been setting these things on an almost daily basis, how in the world did you manage to make this happen now?”_
> 
> _“U-Um, well…”_


End file.
